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CDPXRiGKT DEPOSIT. 



HISTORY 



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aDoleon BonaDarte; 



-INCLUDING — 



LIVES OF NAPOLEON THE GREAT, 



— OF- 



LOUIS NAPOLEON, 



THE PRINCE IMPERIAL 



By henry W. DE PUY, 

uthorof "kossuth and his generals," "ethan allen," etc. 



NEW YORK: 

HURST & CO., PUBLISHERS 

122 NASSAU STREET, 



CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER I. 

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 

Characteristics of Revolutions — The French Revolution of 1798 — 
The Power of Opinion — Profligacy of the French Court previous 
to the Revolution — the Catholic Priesthood — Debauchees at the 
Confessional — The Palais Royal— The Catholic Church— Infi- 
delity — Oppressive Laws — Maladministration of Justice — Indus- 
tay Paralyzed — The Bastile — Revolt of the People — Crimes and 
Sufferings during the Revolution — The Reign of Terror — The 
French Character — Napoleon Bonaparte — His Influence over 
European Affairs — Parents of Bonaparte — Varying Fortunes of 
the Bonaparte Family — Early History of the Bonapartes — They 
are driven from Corsica — Arrest of Napoleon — His Poverty — He 
Contemplates Suicide — His Dreams of Oriental Empire — His 
Prompt Suppression of an Insurrection in Paris — The Boy and 
the Sword — Josephine — Her Romantic History — Her Opinion 
of Napoleon — He Marries Her — Character of Josephine — Bona- 
parte is Appointed to the Command of the Army in Italy — His 
Extraordinary Successes — His Expedition to Egypt — His Ambi- 
tion — The First Consul — Marengo — Eugene and Hortense — The 
Emperor — Marriage of Louis Bonaparte and Hortense — Letter 
from Josephine to Hortense — Napoleon the Master of Europe — 
He Distributes Crowns among his Brothers and Sisters — His 
Divorce — His Marriage with Maria Louisa — Birth of the King 
of Rome — Invasion of Russia — Disasters — Elba — Waterloo— - 
ChildrejQ of Louis Bonaparte and Hortense — Birth of Louis 
Napoleon — Napoleon Charles — Death of Napoleon Charles — 
Anecdotes — Louis Napoleon and the Emperor — Presentiment foi 
Presentiment — The Exiles,.....^, .....,,......,..,...» .-i? 



VIU CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER II. 

KESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS- 



^HBi 



Fontainbleau — Infidelity and Immorality — Francis I. and the Wise 
Fool — The Dying King and the Courtiers — Adventure of Francis 
I. — Diana of Poitiers and the Duchess d' Etampes — Catherine 
de Medicis— Gabrielle d' Estrees — Henry IV. — Louis^XlV. — His 
Queen and his Mistresses — Vice and Devotion — The Lady Gam- 
blers — Madame de Maintenon — The Actress and Her Lover in 
Lent — Death of Louis XIV. — His Manner of Converting the 
Huguenots — Louis XV. — His Marriage with Marie Leczinska — 
A Prince and his Tutor — Anecdotes of the Duke of Burgundy — 
Pius VII. — Josephine at Fontainbleau — Kapoleon and Maria 
Louisa— Napoleon and Pius VII. — " Comedian *' — " Tragedian " 
— Abdication of Napoleon — Parting of Napoleon with the Im- 
perial Guard — The King's Cabinet — Napoleon's Civil Adminis- 
tration — His Character — The Conscription — War and its Crimes 
and Miseries — The Passion for War — What a Declaration of 
War really is — Eeview of Bonaparte's Career — The Bourbons — 
Louis XVIII. — His Escape from France— He Seeks an Asylum 
in England — The Son of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette — His 
Imprisonment and Death — Louis XVIII. placed upon the 
French Throne by the Allied Powers — His Policy — ''Nothing 
Learned, Nothing Forgotten" — Reign of Louis XVIII. — His 
Death — Charles X. — His Gallantries — Madame Polastron, his 
Mistress — Coronation of Charles X. — His Desire to Re-establish 
Despotism — His Unpopularity — The Royal Family — The Soli- 
tary Hurrah — Prince Polignac — Expedition against Algiers — 
Discontent of the People — Character of Charles X.- — Another 
Revolution — The Pavements of Paris again Bathed with Blood — 
Infatuation of Charles X. — Queen Hortense — Her Sons — Loviig 
Napoleon, 68 



CHAPTER IIL 

THE REIGN OF LOUIS PHILIPPE. 

The Three Days of July — Incidents— Victoiy of the People— De- 
position of Charles X. — The Duke of Orleans — Ejfile of Charlef 



CONTENTS. IX 

X. — liouis Philippe Chosen King — Parentage of Louis Philippe 
— Character of his Father — Madame de Genlis — Education of 
Louis Philippe — He Joins the Army — Anecdotes — Decapitation 
of Louis Philippe's Father — Exile — Louis Philippe in Switzer- 
land — He Becomes a Teacher — He Proposes to Visit the United 
States — His Journey through N'orway and Sweden — He Lands 
at Philauelphia — Visits Washington — Proceeds to the West — His 
Adventure with the Indians — He Visits Niagara Falls — Returns 
to Philadelphia — Poverty — The Rejected Lover — The Amateur 
Surgeon — Return to Europe — Death of the Duke of Montpensier 
— Marriage of Louis Philippe — His Effort to Engage in the Eu- 
ropean Revolutions — His Interview with Danton — Louis Phil- 
ippe again in France — Returns to Neuilly — Called to the 
Throne of France— The Duchess de Berri — Administration of 
Louis Philippe — Peace Sentiments — Family of Louis Philippe — 
The Princess Adelaide — Her Death — Children of Louis Philippe 
— The Duke of Orleans — His Marriage — The Duke of Nemours — 
The Duke of Montpensier — Louisa Marie — Guizot — Anecdote — 
Guizot*s Marriage — His Literaiy Labors — His Political Fortunes 
— His Personal Appearance — Thiers — His Early History — Thiers 
as a Legislator — His Appearance — His Oratory — The War in 
Algiers — Abd-el-Kader — How the French Exterminated the 
Arabs — Cost of the War in Algiers — Anecdotes — The Emir and 
the Bishop, 121 

CHAPTER rV. 

/ LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

Qvien Hortense — Her Sons in the Italian Revolution — Hortense 
and Louis Napoleon in Paris — Louis Napoleon and the Poles — 
His Generosity — His Work on the Swiss Confederacy — He De- 
clines the Hand of the Queen of Portugal — His Correspondence 
with Lafayette — His Plans for Revolutionizing France — His In- 
terview with French Officers — Madame Gordon — Colonel Vau- 
drey — Persigny — Louis Napoleon Enters Strasbourg — Letter to 
his Mother — Speech to the Soldiers — Failure — Imprisonment — 
Defense — Letter to Odilon Barrot — Louis Napoleon is sent to 
America — Consternation of Louis Philippe — Trial of Louis Na- 
poleon's Accomplices — Letter of Queen Hortense — Her DeatH — 



dOKTEBfTS. 

Louis Napoleon Leaves Switzerland — Goes to England — Death 
of Charles X. — Death of the Duke d' Angouleme — Removal of 
the Ashes of Napoleon from St. Helena to Paris — Louis Na- 
poleon at Boulogne — His Defeat — His Attempt to Escape — His 
Arrest — His Trial — His Imprisonment — His Address to the Re- 
mains of the Emperor — The Fortress of Ham — The Constable's 
Tower — The Capuchin Friar — A Lover's Revenge — Louis Na- 
poleon's Literary Pursuits — His Works — The Nicaraugua Canal — 
Illness of Louis Napoleon's Father — Escape of Louis Napoleon 
— Dr. Conneau — Death of the Count of St Leu, 179 



CHAPTER V. 

THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 

Review of Louis Philippe's Reign — -His Purchase of Adherents — 
Condition of the Country — Electoral Reform — Reform Banquets 
— The King's Speech — Proposed Banquet in Paris — Its Suppres- 
sion — Excitement of the People — The Barricades — Battles — The 
Tricolor Victorious — Louis Philippe's Abdication — His Escape — 
The Impromptu Monarch — The Duchess of Orleans — The Cham- 
ber of Deputies — The Provisional Government — Its Proclama- 
tion — Lamartine — His Early Life — The Sermon — Lamartine in 
the Chamber of Deputies — Laraartine's Associates — Louis Phil- 
ippe in Exile — His Character and Social Qualities — His Death — 
The National Assembly — The Provisional Government Resign 
their Authority into the Hands of the People's Representatives — 
The June Insurrections — General Cavaignac — Louis Napoleon — 
His Election to the National Assembly — His Declinature — His 
Re-election — He enters the National Assembly — He becomes a 
Candidate for the Presidency — His Addresses to the Nation — 
Character and Services of General Cavaignac — The Presidential 
Candidates — Election of Louis Napoleon, 248 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE BONAPARTE FAMILY. 

Instability of the French Government — Changing Dynasties — Bona* 
parte Familv — Maria Louisa— Her Abandonment of Napoleon in 



C K T E K T g . 3^1 

his Adversity — Count of Niepperg — The Duchy of Parma — Ex- 
travagance of Maria Louisa — Parmesan Scandals — Favorites of 
Maria Louisa — The Son of Bonaparte — Created Duke of Reich- 
stadt — His Character — -His Death — Joseph Bonaparte — His Early 
Cai'eer — He declines the Crown of Lombardy — Becomes King 
of J!^aples — Afterward accepts the Crown of Spain — Retires to 
the United States — Declines the Crown of Mexico — Returns to 
Europe — His Death — Lucien Bonaparte — His Legislative Career 
— Quarrel with Napoleon — Refuses to be Placed on the Spanish 
Throne — His Etruscan Farm — His Death — His Children — Louis 
Bonaparte — King of Holland — His Philanthropy — His Literary 
Works — Jerome Bonaparte — His American Wife^ — King of West- 
phalia — His Dissipation — His Queen — Eliza Bonaparte — Pauline 
Bonaparte — Her Character — Anecdotes — Carohne Bonaparte — 
Her Love of Sway — Her Children — The Mother of Bonaparte — 
Anecdote — Eugene Beauharnais — The Revolution of 1848 — Louis 
Napoleon, 298 



CHAPTER VIL 

THE "coup d'etat." 

The National Will — Louis Napoleon's First Message — The Consti- 
tution of France — The Seeds of Dissension — Louis Napoleon at 
Ham — Parties in the Assembly — Acts of the Assembly — Speech 
of Louis Napoleon — French Intervention in Rome — Pius IX. — 
His Early History — His Elevation to the Pontificate — His Ef- 
forts at Reform — Anecdote — The Pope and the Revolution — The 
Popes Flight from Rome — His Return — Agitation of France — 
Attitude of the President— The Suffrage Question — Increasing 
Excitement— The " Coup d' Etat "—Appeal to the People— Ar- 
rest of General Changarnier — Of General Cavaignac — Of General 
Lamoriciere — Of Other Members of the Assembly — Thiers — De- 
cree of the Assemblj' — The Usurpation Resisted — Success of 
Louis Napoleon — The Elections — The Inauguration of the Pre- 
sident — The New Constitution — Arrests — Deportation of Politi- 
cal Oflfenders — Destruction of the Freedom of the Press— 



Confiscation of the Orleans Estates — The Duchess of Orleans 
—Louis Napoleon's Self-vindication — Distribution of Medals 
among the Military Officers — Oath of Allegiance — General La- 
moriciere — Arago, the Astronomer — Independent Action of the 
Courts — Adjournment of the Assembly and Senate — Presi- 
dent's Journey to Strasbourg — Matrimonial Projects — Tour 
through the Southern Departments — Significant Speeches at 
Lyons and Bordeaux — Reception at Paris — Announcement of 
the Empire to the Senate — " Senatus Consultum " —The Popu- 
lar Vote — Inaugural Address — The Empress — Speech on the 
Marriage — Marriage Ceremony — Imperial Clemency — Prosper- 
ity of the Country — ^Acquiescence of the People — Rigor of the 
Emperor's Rule — Cavaignac— , 351 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE EMPIRE IN ITS RISE AND IN ITS FALL. 

Intrigues at Constantinople — Treaty with England — War with 
Russia — Battles in the Crimea — Two points gained by Na- 
poleon — Birth of Prince Imperial — Orsini's attempt — Ital- 
ian Wars — Victories of the French — Peace of Villefranca — 
Gains of France — Victorious War with China — Peace 
signed at Pekin — Mexico and Maximillian — Sad fate of 
Maximillian and his wife — Napoleon's attitude during the 
Polish Insurrection — Declaration of War against Germany 
— Defeats of the French — Capitulation of Sedan — Napoleon 
a Prisoner — Napoleon's Death in England — The Empress 
in England — The Prince Imperial — His Education — His 
Services — His Death in Africa — Prince Napoleon (Fon- 
filon.') 430 




HISTORY OF THE BONAPARTE FAMILY 



OHAPTEE I. 

RETROSPECTIVE. 

The progress of the human mind, and of human so- 
ciety, is seldom marked by regular and successive steps. 
At some periods, civilization appears to be stationary ; 
at others, even to retrograde ; at others again, to spring 
forward with rapid, gigantic, and almost convulsive 
strides. This irregularity of advance is, doubtless, os- 
tensible rather than actual. Preparations are gradu- 
ally made, ideas slowly matured, and the foundations 
of the future superstructure laid with secret and patient 
industry. But these subterranean workings are for 
the most part unnoticed, till, in the fullness of time, a 
rich harvest of consequences is developed with appa- 
rent suddenness, from causes which have been accumu- 
lating in silence for many years. 

The fall of the Roman empire constituted one of 
these great eras. It was the demarkation between the 
old world and the new. From that period, society and 
nations alike assumed a new aspect, and the world 
commenced a new career. It was the moral deluge, 
Rpon the abatement of which a new condition pf 



r 



KETKOSPEOT. 



society, new systems of government, and new methods 
of thought sprung up. 

The Keformation effected another mighty change. 
It introduced pure religion into the realm of almost 
pagan superstition, civil liberty into the empire of 
tyranny, and science into the depths of national igno- 
rance. One of its immediate and most momentous 
consequences was the struggle for constitutional rights, 
in England, in the seventeenth century — a struggle in 
which civil liberty and religious freedom and tolerance 
won their most substantial victory. 

The great rebellion against feudal and mental op- 
pression in France, which broke forth publicly in 1789, 
and resulted in the overthrow of the French throne, is 
among these memorable transitions, and is deeply in- 
teresting to the present generation, being nearest to our 
own days, most extraordinary in its character, and far- 
spreading in its consequences. !N"o period in history 
is more fertile in attractions — none presents more 
scenes of thrilling interest, more subtle problems of 
character, more intricate intrigues, more truths of po- 
litical philosophy, or more lessons of profound wisdom. 
"No period is richer in materials for the contemplation 
of the statesman, the moralist or the Christian. 

The fall of the empires of the ancient world, exhib- 
iting scenes of extensive suffering in their progress, 
and melancholy calamity in their consummation, bore 
a far different character. They all perished by in- 
vasion. The foreign sword, of all the instruments of 
ruin the most obvious, rude and simple, struck the dia- 
dem from brows already sinking under the weight of 
sovereignty, and the remains of empires mouldered 
away by the course of nature. 



THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 15 

But the French monarchy was unassailed bj any- 
external violence. In the midst of what seemed to the 
eyes of Europe the full vigor of life, it perished in rapid 
agonies, for which the public experience had no rem- 
edy, and human annals scarcely a name. Like one 
of those bodies whose flesh and blood turn into fire, it 
consumed with internal combustion, and at length, 
after an interval of indescribable torture, sunk in ashes, 
and was no more. 

This singular result was effected by the agency of a 
new power — one which must inevitably prove stronger 
than the fortresses or armed legions of despots — the 
Power of Opinion ! In the old trials of empire, all the 
motives of action were confined to the higher ranks. 
Wars were undertaken by ambitious princes to extend 
their conijii.fts, or they were occasioned by the rivalry 
of aspirants to sovereignty. Dynasties might be 
changed, but the institutions and the laws of the state, 
the habits and condition of the masses of the people, 
remained the same. Whatever might be the result, the 
calamities of war fell with equal weight upon them, 
while they never experienced its benefits. The French 
Revolution was of a^difierent character. It was a 
warfare between the People and the Sovereign — a re- 
bellion against Privilege and for Equality. It was not 
a conflict to decide who should be recognized as the 
oppressor of the people, but it was a warfare against 
Oppression itself. 

Perhaps the world never saw, since the days of Sar 
danapalus, a court so corrupt, a nobility so profligate, 
and a state of society so utterly contemptuous of even 
the decent affectation of virtue, as existed in France 



16 EETROSPECT. 

from the reign of Louip XI Y. until the overthrow of 
Louis XYI. A succession of dissolute women ruled 
:;he king and controlled the deliberations of the cabi- 
net ; lower life was a sink of corruption ; the whole a 
romance of the most scandalous order. 

Yice may have existed to a high degree of crimi- 
oality in other lands ; but in no other country of Eu- 
rope, or of the earth, was vice ever so public, so osten- 
tatiously forced upon the eyes of men, so completely 
formed into an established and essential portion of 
fashionable and courtly life. 

It was a matter of course that the king of France 
should have a mistress ! She was as much a part of 
the royal establishment as a prime minister was of the 
royal councils, and not unfrequently, if not always, her 
power was greater and more arbitrarily exercised than 
that of this high officer. And, as if for the purpose 
of offering a still more contemptuous defiance to the 
common decencies of life, it often happened that the 
mistress was a married woman! 

Yet in that country the whole ritual of Popery was 
performed with scrupulous exactness. A numerous 
and powerful priesthood filled France ; and the cere- 
monials of the national religion were performed con- 
tinually before the court, with the most rigid formality. 

The king had his confessor, and the mistress inva- 
riably had hers. The nobles attended the royal chapel, 
and had their confessors. The confessional was never 
without royal and noble solicitors of monthly, or, at 
the furthest, quarterly absolution. Still, from the 
whole body of ecclesiastics, France heard few remon- 
strance against these public abominations. Their ser- 



VICES OF THE NOBILITY. 17 

moils, few and feeble, sometimes declaimed on the 
vices of the beggars of Paris, or the riots among the 
pea-santrj ; but no sense of scriptural responsibility, 
and no natural feeling of duty, often ventured to depre- 
cate the vices of the nobles or the shameless and revolt- 
ing debauchery of the throne. 

Around the king was clustered a crowd of venal no- 
bles, who contended for his favors with adulation, and 
breathed only in the sunshine of his smiles. Wholly 
destitute of independence of spirit, these nobles were 
licentious and arrogant, battening without shame on 
the spoils of the people, and priding themselves on 
the lineages they disgraced. 

The Palais Royal was for a long time the seat of the 
revolting impurities of the most impure court in Eu- 
rope. Built by a prelate on whose head rested the in- 
nocent blood of the Huguenots, and probably built out 
of their spoils, it was destined, in the possession of 
Philip Egalite, (father of Louis Philippe.) to make a 
further progress in the corruption of the public morals. 
He divided his palace into tenements, and hired them 
out to every pursuit of every purchaser, however vile. 
From this assemblage of gaming houses, and nests of 
the most daring and the most forbidden violations of 
law, human and divine, was poured forth, in its time 
of ripeness, the misery of France. The government, 
which had criminally endured such a center of abomi- 
nation in its capital, and had even suffered a scanda- 
lous revenue to be raised out of its pollutions, was 
the first to feel the evil. The Palais Eoyal suddenly 
combined with its character as the chosen place of the 
low luxuries of Parisian life, the new character of the 



8 EETEOSPECT. 

jiead-qnarters of revolution. There were to be found 
■'■■he haranguers against the state ; there were the con- 
f ieracies which marched to the overthrow of the 
1 rone. If the government of Louis ^YL had been 
,' ^ake to the primary obligation on all governments of 
• 'arding the national morals, this glaring scandal 
■■ juld not have been suffered an hour — the gates of the 
Palais Eoyal would have been closed on the whole 
race of its professors of abomination. 

The clergy, too, shared in the general corruption. 
Tlieir wealth was enormous ; their luxury excessive 
and ostentatious ; and all pretensions to superior sanc- 
tity or correctness of manners had long since been 
abandoned. Indeed, many of the highest rank among 
them were pre-eminent for their licentiousness. Gener- 
ally speaking, it might be said, that, for a long time, 
the higher orders of the clergy had ceased to take a 
vital concern in their profession, or to exercise its func- 
tions in a manner which interested the feelings and 
affections of .men. 

The Catholic church had grown old, and unfortu- 
nately did not possess the means of renovating her 
doctrines, or improving her constitution, so as to keep 
pace with the enlargement of the human understanding. 
The lofty claims to infallibility which she had set up 
and miaintained during the middle ages — claims which 
she could neither renounce nor modify, now threatened, 
in more enlightened times, like battlements too heavy 
for the foundation, to be the means of ruining the. edi- 
fice they were designed to defend. To retrace no 
footsteps — to abandon no dogma, continued to be the 
mottoes of the church of Rome. She could explain 



THE CHUKCH OF EOME. 19 

nothing, soften nothing, renounce nothing, consistently 
with her assertion of infallibility. 

The whole trash which had been accumulated for 
ages of darkness and ignorance, whether consisting of 
extravagant pretensions, incredible assertions, absurd 
doctrines which confounded the understanding, or pu- 
erile ceremonies which revolted the taste, was alike 
incapable of being explained away or abandoned. It 
would certainly have been (humanly speaking) advan- 
tageous, alike for the church of Eome and for Chris- 
tianity in general, that the former had possessed the 
means of relinquishing her extravagant claims, modi- 
fying her more obnoxious doctrines, and retrenching 
her superstitious ceremonials, as increasing knowledge 
showed the injustice of the one, and the absurdity of 
the other. 

But this power she dared not assume; and hence, 
perhaps, the great schism which divides the Christian 
world, which might otherwise never have existed, or at 
least not in its present extended and imbittered state. 
But, in all events, the church of Rome, retaining the 
spiritual empire over so large and fair a portion of the 
Christian world, would not have been reduced to the 
alternative of either defending propositions, which, in 
the eyes of all enlightened men, ai-e altogether unten- 
able, or of beholding the most essential and vital doc- 
trines of Christianity confounded with them, and the 
whole system exposed to the scorn of the infidel. The 
more enlightened and better informed part of the 
French nation had fallen very generally into the lattei 
extreme. 

Infidelity, in attacking the absurd claims and 



20 RETEOSPECT. 

extravagant doctrines of the church of Kome, had art- 
fully availed herself of those abuses, as if they had been 
really a part of the Christian religion ; and they whose 
credulity could not digest the grossest articles of the 
papist creed, thought themselves entitled to conclude, 
in general, against religion itself, from the abuses in- 
grafted upon it by ignorance and priestcraft. The same 
circumstances which favored the assault, tended to 
weaken the defense. 

Embarrassed by the necessity of defending the mass 
of human inventions with which their church had ob- 
scured and deformed Christianity, the Catholic clergy 
were not the best advocates even in the best of causes ; 
and though there were many brilliant exceptions, yet 
it must be owned that a great part of the higher orders 
of the priesthood gave themselves little trouble about 
maintaining the doctrines, or extending the influence 
of the church, considering it only in the light of an 
asylum, where, under the condition of certain renunci- 
ations, they enjoyed, in indolent tranquillity, a state of 
ease and luxury. 

Those who thought on the subject more deeply, were 
contented quietly to repose the safety of the church 
upon the restrictions on the press, which prevented the 
possibility of free discussion. The usual effect fol- 
lowed ; and many who, if manly and open debate 
upon theological subjects had been allowed, would 
do)jbtless have been enabled to winnow the wheat 
from the chaff', were, in the state of darkness to which 
they were reduced, led to reject Christianity itself, 
along with the corruptions of the Komish church, 
and to become absolute infidels instead of reformed 
Christians, 



CONDITION OF THE ffiOPLfi. •21 

The number of the clergy, who were thus indiffer- 
e»it to doctrine or duty, was largely increased, since 
promotion to the great benefices had ceased to be dis- 
tributed with regard to the morals, piety, talents, and 
erudition of the candidates, but was bestowed among 
the younger branches of the nobility, upon men who 
were at little pains to reconcile the looseness of their 
former habits and opinions with the sanctity of their 
new profession, and who, embracing the church solely 
as a means of maintenance, were little calculated by 
their lives or learning to extend its consideration. 

Beneath all, there was the bulk of the population, 
urban and rural, who may be said to have literally pos- 
sessed no rights, except that of paying taxes. All the 
burdens of the state fell on the industrious and product- 
ive classes. The nobility and clergy were exempt from 
taxation. The most oppressive mode of collecting 
prevailed. Two-thirds of the whole land of the coun 
try was in the possession of the nobility and clergy, 
who, not content with their fiscal exemption, imposed 
upon the cultivators feudal dues and services of the 
most onerous and harassing description. 

The right of killing game was reserved to the land- 
lords ; and tenants were even forbidden, by special 
edicts, to till their ground, or reap their crops, if the 
preservation of young broods might be thereby endan- 
gered. Game of the most destructive kind, such as 
wild boars and herds of deer, was permitted to go at 
large through extensive districts, without any inclosnres 
to protect the crops. Numerous edicts existed which 
prohibited hoeing and weeding, lest the young par- 
tridges should be disturbed ; taking away the stubble 



lest the birds should be deprived of shelter ; mowing 
hay, lest their eggs should be destroyed ; manuring 
with night-soil, lest their flavor should be injured 
Manorial courts were scattered through the land, to 
take summary vengeance on delinquents in any of 
these particulars. In fact, the rural population was, to 
a certain extent, in a state of serfdom, continually ex 
posed to galling and degrading tyranny, which the 
inhabitants of towns escaped only to undergo humilia- 
tions and vexations of an analogous nature. 

It was impossible that agriculture could flourish un- 
der such untoward circumstances. Instead of being 
protected and encouraged in his indispensable calling, 
the husbandman was regarded as a species of drudge, 
appointed by nature to toil for the benefit of superiors. 
The king, the nobility, and the clergy, all considered 
him in this light, and contended which should wring 
from him the most in the various shapes of taxes, rents, 
dues, and tithes. Thus cultivation was in the rudest 
state, and the naturally fertile soil yielded but a frac- 
tion of the produce it might have been stimulated to 
rear. Travelers who visited France at this epoch, 
concur in representing abject poverty and wretchedness 
as the universal lot of the peasantry. 

E'or was it otherwise with commerce. Industry 
was fettered by a thousand shackles. Eulers have, in 
every age and country, with strange perversity, marked 
trade and its followers for their legitimate prey, and, 
in the alternate guise of exaction and restriction, la- 
bored to cramp its development. The right to carry 
on business, to exercise a profession, was a matter of 
purchase. I^ot only were there chartered guilds to 



MALADMlNISl'EATION OF JtJSTICS. 2S 

enter through a long novitiate and a heavy outlay, but 
the king also was to be bought. Licenses might be 
obtained from him to monopolize certain callings 
within a particular circuit, such as those of barber, 
wood-vender, sausage-maker, &c. When the royal 
treasury needed a sudden replenishment, multitudes of 
these licenses used to be issued, which were bought up 
in the first instance by capitalists, and subsequently 
resold by them through the country at a considerable 
advance. A regular traffic was at times maintained 
in this singular species of paper-money, prices being 
ruled naturally by the prospect, more or less promis- 
ing, of^plundering the community. 

The corruption and uncertainty prevailing in the 
administration of justice likewise tended to thwart the 
operations of commerce. Judicial offices were subjects 
of bargain and sale in every part of the kingdom, dis- 
posed of to the highest bidders, wholly irrespective of 
competency. Hence bribery flowed as a necessary 
consequence, and the courts of law degenerated into 
mere marts, where justice was openly bartered for gold. 
Thus jprivilege was the grand characteristic of France 
at this period, ranging through all the ramifications of 
her disjointed society. First, the high nobility, with 
sinecures and pensions often hereditary, crouched in 
sycophancy around the court, and regarded all others 
as made to minister to their gratifications, l^ext, the 
inferior nobility or gentry, who alone were eligible to 
be officers in the army and navy, and to fill sundry 
important offices ; both exempt from taxation. 

Thus the French labored under a despotism to which 
the horrors of Hindoo servitude were comparative 



M 



ruteospect. 



freedom. Without trial bj jury, without means of 
justice, subjected to the most atrocious oppressions, in 
person and property, bj the grand seigneurs, the posi- 
tion of a French subject was far less enviable than that 
of an Egyptian fellah of the present day. The life of 
a peasant was less valued than that of a wild boar, 
and long centuries of tyranny had left him but little 
else of humanity than its form. 

A volume would scarcely suffice to define all the op- 
pressions to which the French subject was exposed ; 
and how great soever were his wrongs, the semblance 
of justice was to be had only through the influence of 
the beauty of a female relation, or bribes in money, 
that were openly and shamelessly administered. The 
Bastile was crowded with the victims of private ani- 
mosity, consigned to loathsome dungeons without the 
pretense of crime, by arbitrary arrests obtained from 
a corrupt executive through favor or money. These 
victims numbered 15,000, in the reign of Louis XY. 
Safety for persons and property there was none ; and 
the social relations of the lower classes were exposed to 
the debaucheries of the seigneurs; among the long 
catalogue of whose infamous " rights," the " haiser de 
mariees^^ and the " silence dc grenouilles^'^ were at 
once the most odious and the most ridiculous. The 
nature of the latter, was a requirement on the peasants 
to beat constantly the waters of the marshy districts, 
in order to keep silent the frogs, lest their croakings 
should disturb the lady of the seigneur during her con- 
finement. This duty might be commuted for a sum of 
money, or the delinquent caught, and hung up without 
ceremony at the door of the grand seigneur. 



AJSTAECHY. 25 

Debaucliery and blasphemy, selfisLness and disre- 
gard of right, in high places, had done their worst. 
Nothing short of miraculous interposition could have 
saved France from the legitimate consequences of its 
own unparalleled infamy. A rapid stride in political 
knowledge had been made in the briefest possible space 
of time, but the alphabet of morals and the social vir- 
tues, had yet to be acquired. 

A revolution prompted by principles thoroughly en- 
lightened, fostered by motives thoroughly pure, and 
commenced by means thoroughly pacific and constitu- 
tional, had, unfortunately, been attempted by a nation 
which, if we regard it in the mas-, must be pronounced 
to have been utterly unworthy of the blessings to 
which the contemplated changes were in themselves 
likely to lead. 

Justified in revolt by the oppressions and crimes of 
their rulers, but undeserving of freedom by reason of 
their own vices, the French nation knew not how to 
use the gift when it was put into their hands. The 
first steps of their emancipation plunged them into an- 
archy, irreligion, and massacre. They dishonored that 
sacred name of Liberty which they had proudly writ 
ten upon their banner : and they were punished — more 
for the sins of their governors than for their own — by 
Laving to pass again under the yoke, and to learn 
some of the duties of freemen, from a despot whom 
they themselves had been obliged to place on the 
throne of the Capets. 

]S"o great revolution can be accomplished without 
excesses and miseries at which humanity revolts. This 
is eminently true of the French revolution, It ^as ^ 



^6 KETEOSPEOT. 

destruction of great abuses, executed with much inhu 
manity, violence and injustice. 

But notwithstanding the crimes of the revolution and 
the sufferings it caused, it effected a beneficial change. 
A revolution, at its best, is a painful and perilous rem- 
edy ; at its worst, it is the severest trial which a nation 
can undergo. But such trials seldom occur, except in 
cases where hopeless slavery and irreparable decay are 
the only alternatives. There is no doubt that the 
French Revolution was an instance of the worst kind ; 
perhaps it was the very worst that ever occurred. ISTot 
only did the popular movement result in atrocities, but 
the exhaustion which followed led to the usurpation of 
Napoleon and the wars of the empire. 

Three millions and a half of Frenchmen,^ and a 
prodigious number of foreigners, perished, who, but for 
the Eevolution and its consequences, might have ended 
their days in peace. Human ingenuity, in short, can 
ecarcely imagine means by which a greater amount of 
violence and bloodshed could have been crowded into 
a quarter of a century. Still, an escape from this fiery 
trial would have been dearly purchased by the contin- 
uance of the ancient institutions for another century. 
The evils of violence and bloodshed, dreadful as they 
are, cannot be compared to those of oppressive insti- 
tutions. Yiolence and bloodshed are necessarily par- 
tial, but oppressive institutions are universal. It is 

* Mr. Alison, in his history, enumerates the victims of the Revolution, 
including those of the civil war in La Vendee, at 1,022,351 souls; and 
the soldiers whc perished in the wars of the Empire, at 2,200,400. This 
does not include those who fell at Waterloo, in the battles of the revoli|» 
tJonary contest, and in the yarious nay^,! actions of tlje wsj*. 



FRENCH PEASANTRY. 27 

H impossible to guillotine a whole nation ; it is impossible 
^ to enroll a whole nation as conscripts ; but it is easy to 
make a whole nation miserable bj disabilities and exac- 
tions. Even under the Keign of Terror, each individual 
citizen must have felt that there were many hundred 
chances to one in favor of his escape from denuncia- 
tion ; but no peasant had a hope of escaping the 
tyranny of the feudal customs. 

Violence and bloodshed are in their nature transi- 
tory ; but oppressive institutions may be perpetual. 
Crimes which spring from passion soon exhaust them- 
' selves ; but crimes which spring from habit may 

continue for ever. The Keign of Terror was over in 
I fourteen months ; but the ancient regime might have 

j subsisted until its effects had reduced France to the de- 

crepitude of China or Constantinople. Violence and 
bloodshed produce merely suffering ; but oppressive 
institutions produce degradation also. A French peas- 
1 ant might retain the pride and spirit of a free man, 

j though he knew that the next day he might be dragged 

before a revolutionary tribunal, or hurried to join the 
army in Spain or Eussia. But a French peasant who 
\ had been placed in the stocks for want of due servility 
to a noble, who had seen his son sent to the galleys for 
destroying a partridge's eggs, who knew that the honor 
of his family had been outraged by some licentious 
courtier — such a man could not but feel himself a de- 
based and unhappy slave. The sufferings of the Eevo- 
lution, in short, were to the sufferings of the Bourbon 
monarchy, as the plague in London to the malaria of a 
tropical climate. The one was a temporary, though 
pverwhelming blow, the other a wasting pestileiice -^ 



the perpetual source of terror and misery to evei^ 
successive generation existing within its influence. 

The whole of the privileged classes of France actu- 
ally vied with the populace in running the career of 
general subserviency. The National Assembly was 
totally irreligious. It was a great conclave of infidels 
All professing popery, all alienated by their habits from 
the religion of the Scriptures, all scoffing at that reli- 
gion which they had been forbid to investigate, and all 
hating the superstition which had been substituted in 
its room — the higher orders of France, the gentry, and 
the whole body of literature were godless. Is it to be 
wondered at, that their private profligacy passed into 
their public existence? — that the heartlessness, vanity, 
selfishness, and love of pleasure, which already made 
society in France an abomination in the sight of earth 
and heaven, should have only flamed out in the broad 
and violent fires of the Ee volution? 

But with every allowance for the operation of these 
unfortunate conditions, much, no doubt, must be at- 
' tributed to the singular features of the French charac- 
ter : to that fickle and hasty temperament, that warlike 
spirit and inordinate passion for military glory, and 
that deplorable want of moral principle which have 
too much distinguished it, but which were never so 
marked or attended with such fatal consequences as 
during the revolutionary struggle. There is much that 
is amiable, and much that is admirable, in the French 
character ; for general cleverness, active enterprise, 
daring heroism, and patience under the hardships and 
privations of war, they are, perhaps, unrivaled ; but 
the quiet enthusiasm which pursues its olject, steadilj 



liAPOLEON BONAPARTE. M 

and silently, througli neglect and through reproach — 
the courage to withstand popular clamor — the firm- 
ness to resist the contagion of popular emotion — the 
fortitude to sufier in obscurity and in secret — the de- 
votion to adhere unflinchingly to an obnoxious prin- 
ciple or to a sinking cause — these, unhappily, have at 
no time been prominent in the Gallic character. 

The vices and cruelties of the several governments 
which successively seized the direction of affairs, after 
the memorable events of 1789, and the consequent dis- 
appointment, disgust, and exhaustion of the people, 
paved an easy way for the daring usurpation of !N'a- 
poleon Bonaparte ; and amid the comparative repose 
which ensued under his iron despotism, the nation, 
wearied of its fruitless struggle after freedom, sunk 
quietly to sleep. 



NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 

There can be no stronger illustration of the genius 
and influence of Bonaparte than the simple fact, that 
for twenty years his life and the history of Europe are 
convertible terms. During the whole of that time, the 
annals of the smallest European state would be abso- 
lutely unintelligible without a clear view of the policy 
and character of the French Emperor ; and, on the 
other hand, every change of rulers in the pettiest prin- 
cipality — every intrigue at Petersburg or ^Naples — 



§6 UApoleon bonapaete. 

every motion in the British Parliament — was of im- 
mediate and vital concern to E"apoleon. This is more 
than can be said of any other conqueror or statesman 
in modern times. The direct influence of Louis, Fred- 
erick, and Catherine, was comparatively limited. A 
Russian, or a Turk cared little for the invasion of Hol- 
land or the Spanish succession ; and an Italian was 
comparatively indifferent to the conquest of Silesia oi 
the division of Poland. But no such supineness pre- 
vailed during the wars of the French empire. "Wher- 
ever the great conqueror was engaged, the breathless 
attention of all Europe was fixed. Every citizen of 
every state felt his hopes or his fortunes raised or de 
pressed by the event. The death of an English minis 
ter was hastened by the battle of Marengo ; the treaty 
of Tilsit was felt as an object of interest in the deserts 
of central Asia ; the battle of Leipsic roused or para- 
lyzed every European from Cadiz to the North Cape. 
The French empire, in a word^ resembled the talis 
manic globe of the sorcerers in Southey's poem of 
" Thalaba," the slightest touch upon which caused the 
whole universe to tremble. 

In the year 1785 there died at Montpelier, in the 
prime of life, a Corsican lawyer, named Charles Bona- 
parte. His place of residence was the town of Ajaccio, 
in his native island. As is usual in southern climates, 
he married at the early age of nineteen, having won 
for his wife, from numerous competitors, the reigning 
beauty of the world of Corsica, the young Letitia Ea- 
molino, who was remarkable, not only for her personal 
charms, but also for the courage and fortitude of her 
character. He left her a widow, still young and 



BONAPARTE FAMILt. Si 

beautlfnl, with eight children, of whom the eldest was 
but seventeen years, and the youngest only three 
months. Six others had died in infancy. Left in 
somewhat straitened circumstances, the chief reliance 
of the family was in a rich old uncle, an ecclesiastic in 
the Corsican church. Two of the children, indeed, had 
already, in a manner, been provided for. The eldest, 
a son, had begun the study of the law. The second, a 
youth of sixteen, had completed his education at the 
military academies of Brienne and Paris, and had just 
received, or was on the point of receiving, a sub-lieu- 
tenancy of artillery in the French king's army. It was 
on this young soldier, rather than on his elder brother, 
that the hopes of the family were fixed. Even the 
poor father's ravings on his death-bed, it is said, were 
all about his absent boy, l^apoleon, and a " great 
sword " that he was to bequeath to him. 

Sixty-seven years have elapsed since then — two 
generations and part of a third — and what changes 
have they not seen in the fortunes of the Corsican 
family ! In the first, issuing from their native island, 
like some band of old Heracleidse, and pushing, with 
their military brother at their head, into the midst of 
a revolution that was then convulsing Europe, these 
half-Italian orphans, whose dialect no one could recog- 
nize, cut their way to the center of the tumult, seize the 
administration, and are distributed as kings and princes 
among the western nations. In the second, shattered 
and thrown down as by a stroke of Apocalyptic ven- 
geance, they are dispersed as wanderers over the civ- 
ilized world, to increase their numbers, and form 
connections everywhere. And now. again, at the 



82 NAPOLEON BONAPAKTE. 

beginning of a third, there seems to be a gathering of 
them toward the old center, as if for a new function in 
regard to the future. Let us glance for a little at these 
successive chapters of a most extraordinary familj- 
historj, not yet ended. 

The outbreak of the Revolution in 178'9 found the 
Bonapartes all living together at Ajaccio — the eldest, 
Joseph, in his twenty-third year, a lawyer entering into 
practice ; the second, JSTapoleon, now twenty-one years 
of age, a lieutenant of artillery on leave of absence ; 
the third, Lucien, a hot-headed young man, Rve years 
younger than Napoleon, and fresh from the college of 
Autun ; the fourth, a daughter, Eliza, then in her fif- 
teenth year ; next to her, Louis, a boy of twelve or 
thirteen ; and lastly, the three youngest, still mere in- 
fants, Pauline, Caroline, and Jerome. In the same 
house with the Bonapartes, and about three years older 
than Joseph, lived the Abbe Fesch, a half-brother of 
Madame Bonaparte. All the family, as indeed almost 
all the Corsicans at that time, were admirers of the 
Revolution ; but the most fervid revolutionist of all was 
Lucien, who was the juvenile prodigy of the family, 
and whose speeches, delivered at the meetings of a 
popular society that had been established at Ajaccio, 
were the delight of the town. Joseph, older and 
steadier, took his part, too, in the general bustle ; while 
the lieutenant amused his idleness by long walks about 
the island, and by writing various essays and sketches, 
among which is mentioned a History of the Revolution 
of Corsica, a manuscript copy of which was forwarded 
to Mirabeau. 

Driven from Corsica, on account of their political 



THE WAIF ON TKB FRENCH COAST. 83 

opinions, the widow and her eight children were cast, 
like a waif, upon the shores of France. Madame 
Bonaparte, amidst a small band of faithful followers, 
marched with her young children, under the shade of 
darkness, and, before daylight, reached a secluded spot 
on the sea-shore, whence, from an elevation, she could 
see her house in flames. Undaunted by the sad spec- 
tacle, she exciaimed, " ]^ever mind, we will build it up 
again much better : Vive la France! " After a con- 
cealment of two days and nights in the recesses of the 
woods, the fugitives were at length gladdened by the 
sight of a French frigate, on board of which were Jo- 
seph and IS^apoleon. In this vessel the whole party at 
once embarked, and as no hope remained of finding 
security in Corsica, it was straightway steered for 
France. Marseilles was its port of destination, and 
there it accordingly landed the family of exiles, desti- 
tute of every vestige of property, but unbroken, it 
would seem, in courage and health. Madame Bona- 
parte had occasion for the exercise of all her fortitude 
in these trying circumstances, for she was reduced to 
almost extreme poverty, and was fain to receive with 
thankfulness the rations of bread distributed by the 
municipality to refugee patriots. Joseph speedily 
received an appointment as a commissary of war ; and 
he and ISTapoleon contributed to the support of the 
family from their scanty allowances ; but during the 
first years of their residence in France, these obscure 
exiles, who even spoke the language of their adopted 
country with difficulty, suflered all the inconveniences 
of extreme penury. 

Marseilles became the head-quarters of the Bona- 



34 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 

parte family during the Keign of Terror. Here, from 
1793 to 1796, they were severally to be either seen or 
heard of — Joseph, employed as a commissary of war, 
living in the town, wooing, and tit last (1794) marrying 
a Mademoiselle Clary, the daughter of a wealthy mer- 
chant ; l^apoleon, occasionally at Marseilles, but usu- 
ally absent in Paris, or elsewhere, already a general of 
brigade, having been raised to that rank for his serv 
ices at the siege of Toulon, yet grumbling at his pov 
erty and inactivity, and thinking his brother Joseph 3 
" lucky rogue " in having made so good a match ; Lu- 
cien, a young firebrand, known over the whole district 
as "Brutus Bonaparte," and extremely popular as a 
republican orator at Marseilles, where, in 1795, he 
married the sister of an innkeeper ; and lastly, the 
five younger members of the family living with their 
mother. 

The fall of Kobespierre and his party (July, 1794) 
was a temporary blow to the fortunes of the Bonapartes, 
connected as they were with that side of the Revolu- 
tion. General Bonaparte was arrested, and although 
afterward liberated, was still suspected and degraded. 
His release was purchased by the sacrifice of his rank 
in the army, and he lost all the fruits of the brilliant 
reputation he had won, and was thrown an outcast 
upon the world, at the age of twenty-five, ignomini- 
ously expelled from the profession in which he had 
already begun to gather prospective laurels. 

After his discharge from the army and from captiv- 
ity, l^apoleon had proceeded to Paris, with the view 
of claiming from the new government, reparation of 
the wrongs he had suifered. But all his applications 



HOPES OF ORIENTAL EMPIBB. 



a:i 



being fruitless, he found himself in a situation at once 
most galling and deplorable ; since, to his impetuous 
spirit, the want of employment at a time when active 
service offered so many chances of distinction, must 
have been intolerable, while his destitution was such 
that he often lacked the means of procuring a dinner. 
Yet his ardent imagination was even then filled with 
reveries of the greatness he might achieve ; and it was 
on an oriental field his thoughts wandered in brilliant 
perspectives ; for he deemed Europe tame and sterile 
in comparison with Asia, as a theater of glorious enter- 
prise. He cherished the idea of leaving France, and 
offering to the Turkish sultan the sword his country 
was unworthy to possess ; but averse to go forth as a 
mere adventurer, he submitted a proposition to the 
government for heading a detachment of ofiicers to 
improve the discipline of the Ottoman forces, and pre- 
pare them for a more equal encounter with the trained 
soldiers of Kussia. This proposition, however, was 
not entertained ; and the impatient hero was compelled 
to await a more propitious period to realize his scheme 
of revolution and conquest in the East. To the very 
end of his career his mind was full of the most roman- 
tic visions of eastern grandeur ; and his magnificent 
and wild imagination presents a vivid contrast to the 
vigorous grasp of his intellect, the coolness of his judg- 
ment, and the crystal clearness of his understanding. 
The throne of Constantinople or Hindostan was one of 
the dreams of his earliest youth ; and even in the midst 
of his most splendid European conquests, gorgeous 
visions of palms and pagodas were seldom long absent 
troixj his fancy. This dream of oriental emjire was 



36 NAPOLEON BONAPAKTB. 

the chief incentive to his subsequent Egyptian expe 
dition. "While gazing on the mount of Richard Coeui 
de Lion, previous to his repulse at Acre, he said to 
Bourrienne, " Yes, that miserable fort has, indeed, cost 
me dear. But matters have gone too far for me not to 
make a last effort. If I succeed, I shall find in that 
town all the treasures of the pacha, and arms for 
300,000 men. I shall raise and arm all Syria ; I shall 
march on Damascus and Aleppo. Acre taken, I shall 
secure Egypt. I shall arrive at Constantinople with 
armed masses, overturn the empire of the Turks, and 
establish a new one in the East, which will fix my 
place with posterity. And perhaps I may return to 
Paris by Adrianople and Yienna, after having annihi- 
lated the house of Austria." This circuit of Asia and 
Europe, through subverted thrones and fields of battle, 
only to return to Paris at last, brings to the memory 
the dialogue of Pyrrhus the Epirote, with the philoso- 
pher, and might be fairly ridiculed by the philoso- 
pher's remark — " Why not go there without taking all 
this trouble ? " But extravagant as was the conception, 
and boundless as the bloodshed and misery which must 
have purchased this circuitous path to Paris and re- 
nown, it evidently clung to ISTapoleon. When all 
things else had left him, twenty years after, on the 
precipices of St. Helena, he still felt the blow that the 
Bword of England had given to his ambition in Syria. 
" Acre once taken," said he, " the French army would 
have flown to Aleppo and Damascus ; in the twinkling 
of an eye it would have been on the Euphrates ; the 
Christians of Syria, the Druses, the Christians of Ar- 
menia, would have joined it ; the whole population of 



THOUGHTS OF SUICIDE. 37 

the East would have been agitated." To the observa- 
tion, that he would soon have had 100,000 men, he 
rei:»lied, " Saj rather 600,000. Who can calculate what 
would have happened ? I should have reached Con- 
stantinople and the Indies. I should have changed 
the face of the world." 

Big with these enthusiastic dreams of future power, 
Bonaparte, poor, unemployed and unfriended, loitered 
about the streets of Paris, scowling at the effeminate 
dandies who pranced in the promenades on capar- 
isoned horses, and lisped the praises of singers and 
dancers at the opera — for the metropolis of terror had 
been suddenly changed to one of exaggerated gayety, — 
frequenting coffee-houses, theaters, gambling-houses, 
and other places of amusement ; strolling in deserted 
avenues, in the stillness of evenings, to indulge in pen- 
sive meditations, or to beguile the weary time ; lead- 
ing, in short, a life of pure vagabondism, which has its 
joys in the clays of youth, when the spirits are buoy- 
ant and hope is elastic, but which is replete with mo- 
ments of remorse and anguish. In such paroxysms 
of the conscience, despair is prone to seize upon the 
mind, and inspire its victims with lamentable im- 
pulses. So ]N"apoleon fell under the dire temptation, 
and one night started along the quays to throw him- 
self from one of the bridges over the Seine. On his 
way he encountered an old friend, whom he had not 
seen since they were comrades of the camp, and to 
whom he related the sad story of his distresses, which 
affected not him only, but objects dearer to him than 
himself The friend was moved by the mournful tale, 
and presented to the intending suicide a bag of gold, 



38 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 

whose magic touch at once dispelled the gloomy 
humors which had impelled him to his fearful purpose. 

Thus rescued from an inglorious death, the teeming 
era of revolutions at length summoned into conspicuous 
action the desolate and wo-worn Napoleon — an insur- 
rection occurring in Paris, he was fortunate enough to 
be chosen among the officers appointed to suppress it. 
He at once assumed the direction of affairs. Instantly 
he opened upon the insurgents a terrific discharge of 
grape-shot, which staggered, overthrew, and routed 
them. The battle was neither long nor obstinate ; the 
insurgents could make no head against the tempest of 
balls vomited against them by their pitiless and scien- 
tific enemy. The conqueror in the broil was hailed 
with acclamations by the grateful Assembly, and in 
reward of his services he was nominated to be General 
of the Army of the Interior. By this achievement he 
saved the Kevolution, for had the insurgents been 
triumphant, the restoration of the Bourbons would 
have been the almost inevitable result. Henceforth he 
became of paramount importance in the convulsed 
community : the reduction of Toulon had first fixed 
upon him the attention which was requisite to encour- 
age confidence in his superiority ; the repulse of the 
insurgents in October, 1795, showed him resolute and 
indomitable in conflict, and stamped upon him the 
seal of predominance, although cemented in the gore 
of fellow-countrymen and citizens. 

It is thus that opportunity only is wanting to men 
of real genius and capacity, to make manifest the 
qualities within them, and assure them of a commanding 
position among their fellow men. This Napoleon had 



JOSEPHINE. 39 

gained, and straightway the path of fortune was wide 
and smooth before him. Happy accidents almost 
poured upon him, and none was more singularly au- 
spicious than that which introduced him to a wife. 
One day he was applied to by a boy not more than 
ten years of age, for the restoration of his father's 
sword, which had been seized in the general search, 
although its owner was long since dead. The ingenu- 
ous earnestness of the youth pleaded in his favor, 
and Napoleon restored him the sword ; but he was 
induced to ask the circumstances of the family to 
which he belonged. His father, Alexander de Beau- 
harnais, had commanded one of the armies of the 
republic, but had lost his head in the Keign of Ter- 
ror ; his mother, Josephine, still survived, having nar- 
rowly escaped the same fate by the fortunate overthrow 
of Eobespierre within a few hours of her intended 
execution. She was a native of Martinique, and was 
enveloped in a strange interest, from the remarkable 
prophecies that had been made concerning her. In^ 
one of these, delivered by an old negress, she herself 
put faith, with the superstition natural to her clime ; 
and so far, in truth, the prediction had been verified. 
It was said that she should witness the death of her 
first husband, be plunged into the deepest misery, but 
ultimately be raised above the estate of a queen. But 
whatever might be the fabled destinies in store for her, 
it was upon more rational expectations that Napoleon 
sought and won her hand. She was recommended to 
him by the inimitable graces of her person and man- 
ners, which were fascinating in 'a superlative degree, 
and probably also by considerations of a somewhat 



40 NAPOLEON BONAPAETE. 

grosser nature. Society was very dissolute at this 
period ; she had heretofore enjoyed an intimacy with 
Barras, which gave her great influence over him ; and 
this personage now possessed almost supreme power. 
Hence, his favor was of material consequence, espe- 
cially in the distribution of military commands ; and 
as IS'apoleon aspired to the very highest and most im- 
portant in the service of the republic, it was politic in 
him to strengthen his pretensions by an alliance forti- 
fied with the most cogent and persuasive ties. 

At Josephine's house Bonaparte was wont to meet 
a small, but valuable circle, composed of those who, 
while they favored his suit, were able likewise to pro- 
mote his interests, as soon as these should become 
united with the fortunes of her whom he loved. On 
her part Josephine was distinctly promised by Barras, 
that if she would accede to the arrangement, Bonaparte 
should be appointed to the command of the army in 
Italy. In a letter to a friend, explaining her motives 
for marrying Bonaparte, she mentions this circum- 
stance, and says : " Yesterday, Bonaparte, speaking of 
this favor, which already excites murmuring among his 
fellow-soldiers, though it be as yet only a promise, said 
to me, ' Think they then I have need of their protec- 
tion to arrive at power ? Egregious mistake ! They 
will all be but too happy one day should I condescend 
to grant them mine. My sword is by my side, and 
with it I will go far ! ' What say you to this security 
of success ? Is it not a proof of confidence springing 
from an excess of vanity ? A general of brigade pro- 
tect the head of government ! that, truly, is an event 
highly probable ! I know not how it is, but sometimes 



MARRIAGE OF BONAPARTE. 41 

this waywardness gains upon me to such a degree, 
that ahnost 1 believe possible whatever this singular 
man maj take into his head to attempt ; and with 
his imagination, who can calculate what he will not 
undertake ? " 

Truly might Josephine, in bitterness of soul, accuse 
Bonaparte of being an ingrate, who afterward sacri- 
ficed her by whom he had risen. She probably did 
not marry Bonaparte from attachment : a desire to 
provide a protector for her daughter, a guide for her 
son, were her own motives ; the representations of her 
friends accomplished the rest. Time, and experience 
of those fascinations which she herself described as 
unequaled, ripened the grateful feelings of a mother's 
heart into a love and admiration which, for uncom- 
plaining self-devotedness, in the most painful of all 
sacrifices, stands pre-eminent in the sad story of 
unrequited affection. 

Where passion prompted and ambition urged, Bona- 
parte was not the man to fail. His nuptials with Jose- 
phine were solemnized, according to the revolutionary 
forms, by the appearance of the contracting parties 
before the civil magistrate, March 9, 1796. Josephine 
was then thirty-three years of age, and Napoleon 
twenty-seven — she having been born June 23, 1763, 
and he August 15, 1769. On the registry of the 
marriage, however, Josephine's birth is placed in 1767. 
The four years thus deducted from her real age must 
be assigned either to mistake, or, not improbably, to 
voluntary forgetfulness. The births of the children of 
her first marriage, are decisive on this point — Eugene 
baving been born September 3, 1780, and Hortense 



42 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 

April 10, 1783 ; but so little attention was paid to 
consistency, that according to the registry of her mar- 
riage with Bonaparte, she must have beon a mother at 
a little more than the age of ten years. It is deserv- 
ing of notice also, as something like a mutual abnega- 
tion of curious inquiry on this head, that in the same 
instrument a year is added to l^apoleon's age. 

From her earliest years, JoseiDhine appears to have 
displayed those excellencies of character, and that ele- 
gance of demeanor, which, amid some frivolities, 
render her so amiable in every change of her check- 
ered life, and enabled her, in gentleness, yet not with- 
out dignity, to maintain an inJBLuence over a spirit so 
differently constituted from her own. From a child, 
opening beauty and sprightliness, united with perfect 
good nature, rendered her the delight of her own cir- 
cle. She played on the harp and sang with exquisite 
feeling. Her dancing is said to have been perfect. 
An eye-witness describes her light form, rising scarcely 
above the middle size, as seeming in its faultless sym- 
metry, to float rather than to move — the very person- 
ation of grace. She exercised her pencil and her 
needle and embroidering frame with beautiful ad- 
dress. " A love of flowers," that truly feminine aspi- 
ration, and, according to a master in elegance and 
virtue, infallible index of purity of heart, was with her 
no uninstructed admiration. She had early cultivated 
a knowledge of botany, a study of all others especially 
adapted to the female mind, which exercises without 
fatiguing the understanding, and leads the thoughts to 
hold converse with heaven through the sweetest objects 
pf earth. To the Empress Josephine, France and 



CHAKACTER OF JOSEPHINE. 45 

Europe are indebted for one of the most beautiful of 
vegetable productions — the camelia. In all to which 
the empire of woman's taste rightly extends, hers was 
exquisitely just, and simple as it was refined. Her 
sense of the becoming and the proper in all things, 
and under every variety of circumstances, appeared 
native and intuitive. She read delightfully ; and na- 
ture had been here peculiarly propitious : for so har« 
monious were the tones of her voice, even in the most 
ordinary conversation, that instances are common of 
those who, coming unexpectedly and unseen within 
their influence, have remained as if suddenly fasci' 
nated and spell-bound, till the sounds ceased, or fear 
of discovery forced the listener away. Like the harp 
of David on the troubled breast of Israel's king, this 
charm is known to have wrought powerfully upon 
Napoleon. His own admission was, "The first ap- 
plause of the French people sounded to my ear sweet 
as the voice of Josephine." 

Barras fully redeemed the pledge to Josephine, and 
only twelve days after his union with her, Bonaparte 
set out for Italy as the commander-in-chief of the re^ 
publican araiy in that country. He was animated 
with a fervor and self-confidence which set at naught 
all impediments ; and he said joyously to his friends, 
as he started, " In three months you will see me again 
at Paris, or will hear of me at Milan." 

It was in no idle spirit that he spoke these words ; 
for on the desperate hazard he was prepared to stake 
the future of his life, whether it should be disgrace in 
failure, or empire in success. Two armies were op- 
posed to him —one of Piedmontese, 20,000 stronfij. 



44 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 

and the other of Austrians, 35,000 strong, between 
which he poured with his emaciated complement of 
30,000. Already, under the revolutionary impulse, 
the tactics of war had been materially changed from 
the old established routine. But such changes were 
trifling in comparison with those introduced by [N'apo- 
leon Bonaparte, who struck by blows so sure and rapid, 
that his enemy was overpowered before he well knew 
that operations had commenced; and campaigns which, 
under the old system of even Marlborough and Frede- 
rick, would have lingered for years, were decided in a 
few weeks, sometimes in a few days. Thus he hurled 
the Piedmontese and Austrians before him, on separate 
routes of retreat, with a precipitation which annihilated 
resistance: in less than two months he had fought six 
battles, reduced Sardinia to sue for peace, entered 
Milan in triumph, and expelled the Austrians from 
Lombardy, driving them across the Adige, and into 
the fastnesses of the Tyrol. Such a series of exploits, 
accomplished in so short a time, wrought a boundless 
amazement, and the hero of them was extolled as a 
prodigy superior to all warriors of ancient or modern 
fame. It was the rapidity of his achievements, rather 
even than their results which dazzled the imagination, 
and marked the advent of a new master in the great 
art of war. No conqueror had ever displayed such 
originality of genius, such boldness of conception, such 
profundity of combination, such celerity of execution; 
and the sudden interest which surrounded him was in 
creased by the novel grandeur of the language in which 
he spoke to his soldiers, and the imperious tone he 
assumed to the potentates who held fair Italy in 



45 

servitude. At the bare aspect of his sword, piiestly 
and royal dominations crouched before him; and the 
proud oligarchy of Yenice sent humble intercessions to 
propitiate hia wrath. Yet his possession of Lombardy 
was very insecure, for the house of Austria was 
making prodigious exertions to wrest it from him, and 
to recover that stolen jewel of its usurping crown. 
Four successive armies of 60,000 men each were pushed 
down the gorges of the Tyrol and across the Brenta, 
under veteran leaders of exalted reputation, to dislodge 
him from his central position of Yerona, and thence 
dislodged, to inflict on him an inevitable ruin. Against 
these he contended with a skill and energy which have 
rendered his deeds in those campaigns superior in 
renown to all other feats of strategy or heroism. He 
himself has not surpassed them. They assured to him 
the definite possession of Italy, and enabled him, in a 
subsequent campaign, to cross the IToric Alps and 
advance within twenty-five leagues of Yienna, where 
he extorted from the Emperor the famous treaty of 
Campo-Formo, which secured to France all the vast 
accessions of territory she had gained from the first 
outbreak of the revolutionary war. At no period of 
her history had she concluded so glorious and advanta- 
geous a peace; and in his double capacity of warrior 
and pacificator, l^apoleon was received in Paris with 
an enthusiasm befitting the great services he had per- 
formed. 

But the time was not yet come for Bonaparte's as- 
sumption of the government ; he must yet gather fresh 
laurels, and the country be overwhelmed with disasters, 
ere he could aspire to seize supreme authority in the 



4:6 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 

republic. It was not at a period when he had raised 

it to the pinnacle of greatness it would voluntarily 
accept him for a sovereign ; a season of calamity was 
needed to rally its hopes on him as an indispensable 
instrument of salvation. His position at Paris was 
irksome both to himself and to the Directory, and it 
was equally the wish of both that he should forthwith 
betake himself again to active employment. The 
Directory was anxious to invade England or Ireland. 
But ISTapoleon had a different project of his owm, 
w^hich was more agreeable to those early fancies he had 
so fondly indulged ; and he had not completed his 
conquest of Italy before he cast his eyes on Egypt, as 
the next theater of his ardent powers. In Egypt he 
saw the commencement of his visionary subjugation ^ 
of Asia, or his dethronement of the Ottoman sultan, 
and an expedition to conquer it was sufficiently plausi- 
ble to be defended on the ground of interest to France. 
The possession of Malta and Egypt was a prodigious 
step toward that grand traditionary scheme of ren- 
dering the Mediterranean a French lake, while, by 
opening the readiest route to India, it facilitated the 
destruction of England in a more certain manner than 
by direct invasion. Upon these arguments he main- 
tained the superior merits of his project, and the 
Directory was fain to yield to them a reluctant acqui- 
escence. There was just sufficient of national advantage 
in it to cloak his personal desires, to which at all times 
of his life he was ready to sacrifice every other consid- 
eration. He embarked, therefore, on his extravagant 
but magnificent enterprise, accompanied by the largest 
sayal and military armament that had ever crossed ^ 



NAPOLEON IN EGYF1\ 47 

wide expanse of sea ; and before the aim of his expe- 
dition was known to the world, had planted the repub- 
lican banner on the impregnable ramparts of Malta, 
the ruined towers of Alexandria, and the glittering 
minarets of the city of the Caliphs. The battles of the 
Pyramids and Moint Tabor, fought on fields of such 
imperishable and hallowed recollection, shed a luster 
on the French arms, which was all the brighter for the 
distance it traveled— for the unknown regions that had 
witnessed them. The French were in raptures at the 
tidings, for the predxjminant idea of their Revolution 
had become military glory and conquest, to the exclu- 
sion of all earlier views touching liberty and frater- 
nity ; and the reverses they were sustaining in Europe 
gave to them a character of peculiar consolation. The 
Directory was composed of vulgar and violent men, 
who displayed an insatiable wickedness in aggressions 
on the neighbors of France, and who outraged every 
law in the gratification of its lustful passions. Soon, 
its detestable usurpation drew upon it the indignation 
of combined Europe, and its desolating armies were 
driven back with infamy into the confines of France 
itself But for the inveterate cupidity of Austria, and 
the astounding imbecility of England, the republic 
must have been overthrown at that time ; as it was, it 
was reduced to a state of depression and misery unex- 
ampled among the retributions that have been visited 
on the sins of the nations. In this dismal crisis, all 
eyes reverted to the indomitable hero who had already 
elevated France to such a pitch of grandeur, from 
which she had fallen the moment his sword was with- 
drawn, and who alone still upheld the fame of her 



48 NAPOLEON BONAPABTE. 

victorious flag ; wheiij at the critical moraent, the de- 
sired leader appeared, and converted the gloom of his 
disconsolate countrymen into the joy of an anticipated 
deliverance. 

ITever was a country so ripe to receive a mastei 
fitted to curb its licentious factions and to restore its 
vitality, as France in the latter part of 1799. For ten 
years, she had been engaged in a career of revolution, 
and at the end of that time, her fervent prayer was 
for the institution of a despotism, to relieve her from 
the greater horrors of anarchy and social dissolution. 
The master she required in her necessities she found 
in the person to whom her hopes had instinctivelj' 
turned — in ITapoleon Bonaparte, whose absence she 
had deplored and his return invoked. On the 9th of 
November, the revolution of the 18th Brumaire, the 
last of the prolific series since 1790, constituted him 
First Consul of the French republic, with an almost 
absolute executive authority. His brother Lucien was 
of great assistance in accomplishing this object, dis- 
playing, in his capacity of President of the Council of 
Five Hundred, a firmness and courage which secured 
the success of the project when almost on the point of 
failure. Two subordinate consuls were at the same 
time created ; but all the chief appointments were 
vested in the First Consul, who had consequently 
abundant means of rewarding his friends and parti- 
sans. The policy he pursued was the beneficent one 
of amalgamating parties and interests, ",.id of substi- 
tuting for the violent system of preceding governments 
one of conciliation and clemency. The measures he 
took for the restoratioTi of order and tranquillity were 



THE FIRST CONSUL. 49 

singularly judicious and eflfective, and, in a short time, 
he wrought an incredible change in the condition of 
France, which joyfully threw herself into his arms, re- 
posing confidently on his superior intelligence and 
capacity. But internal ameliorations were of second- 
ary importance to the still greater object of delivering 
France from the pressure of foreign enemies, and to 
this l^apoleon directed his unremitting energies. His 
overtures for peace being contemptuously rejected by 
the inflated governments of England and Austria, he 
prepared to strike a blow, which, by its force and sud- 
denness, should confound them, and annihilate their 
pretensions. 

With an army, of whose very existence they were 
profoundly ignorant, he crossed the great chains of the 
Alps, and debouched into the plains of Italy, directly 
on the rear of the Austrians, who were beyond the 
Appenines, contemplating an immediate invasion of 
Provence. These, precipitately retrograding, to regain 
their communications, he encountered and vanquished 
on the memorable field of Marengo, through which 
event he again became, in the course of a few days, 
complete master of the whole of Italy. Austria was 
smitten to the heart by so unlooked-for and miraculous 
a disaster, and she sent an envoy with plaintive propo- 
sitions to treat of peace. But England strove to revive 
her palsied courage by dint of replenished subsidies, 
and she was induced, with desperate resolution, to try 
the fortunes of another campaign. This proved equally 
calamitous, and nothing remained for her but to submit 
to the will of the conqueror she had unwisely defied. 
At Luneville, accordingly, on the 9tli of February, 



50 I^APoLEOn SONAfAietE. 

1801, she signed a treaty infinitely more disadvan- 
tageous to her than that of Campo-Formo, and one 
which assured to France an aggrandizement wholly 
inconsi-stent with the old balance of power in Europe. 
Nevertheless, to this sad termination of all her strug- 
gles against the Ee volution, England herself was 
reduced to accede: placed in a melancholy isolation 
against the power of the colossal republic, she, too, 
succumbed, and concluded a treaty at Amiens, in 
March, 1802, in order to gain at least a temporary 
respite from the afflictions of war. Thus did Napoleon 
lift France, from an abyss of degradation, to the very 
highest rank among the nations of the earth ; and 
while he endowed her with this envied supremacy, 
healed the festering sores of her internal maladies, 
and conferred on her a peace and prosperity she had 
never known since she embarked in her wild crusade 
against kings, nobles, and priests. Commensurate was 
the gratitude of her enraptured people, who were ready 
to testify it by any inordinate expression agreeable to 
the ambition of their benefactor and idol. 

During the short interval between the 18th Brumaire 
and the peace of Amiens, Napoleon appears clothed 
with a majesty and glory which throws far into the 
shade the luster of monarchs cradled in royalty. . Not 
only did he beat to pieces the formidable coalition ar- 
rayed to extinguisli France, but all his conduct in this 
happy era of his life was marked by a wisdom and be- 
neficence which stands in dazzling contrast with the 
folly and iniquities of his subsequent career. In his 
restoration of religion alone, against the most inveterate 
prejudice confirmed in the course of the Revolution, he 



AEROGANCE OT NAPOLEON. 51 

rendered to a benighted land the greatest good it 
could receive, and the indispensable guardian of society, 
but which it would certainly not have accepted from 
any hands save his alone. Yet rarely has the intoxica- 
tion of power been so quick and overwhelming in its 
corruption of the mind and the understanding, as in 
the instance of this extraordinary individual. He 
almost straightway became the slave of passions that 
grew in their evil intensity with every gratification 
which fed them, until they reached a height which 
overmastered his reason and transformed him into the 
very curse of humanity. The arrogance of the language 
he habitually used toward foreign courts — particu- 
larly the British, which he thoroughly despised — was 
altogether insufferable ; while he recklessly seized 
upon dominions that opposed him, regardless of all 
guarantees imposed by either good faith, policy, or 
public law. Hence he rendered relations of peace im- 
possible with him, unless on the part of miserable 
trucklers like the king of Prussia. 

Encouraged by the admiration and homage of the 
whole nation of Frenchmen, he constituted himself 
their Emperor; and amidst an adulation exceeding the 
abjectness of degenerate Greeks, established an empire 
unmatched for the rigor of its despotism and the splen- 
dor of its emblazonries. To consecrate this culminating 
phase of the Revolution, he summoned to Paris the 
head of the Catholic church, and exhibited to the as- 
tonished universe the spectacle of a pope anointing in 
Notre-Dame the plebeian but august warrior, who had 
the papacy shorn of the territorial grandeur it had 
labored so hard in by-gone. ages to secure. 



52 NAPOLEON BONAPAETE. 

Among all the vices of IS'apoleon's character, he 
cannot assuredly be charged with want of affection for 
his family, since he displayed toward those connected 
with him an attachment and regard which was often 
detrimental to him. His wife, Josephine, was particu- 
larly dear to him, although her conduct on many occa- 
sions was not altogether blameless. His letters to 
her at every period of their union, are replete with 
expressions of the warmest devotion ; and if at any 
time she seemed to disregard his wishes, it was through 
a wayward levity, which left her scarcely mistress of 
herself He was supremely fond of her society. That 
she had borne him no children was a subject of incon 
solable regret, but he cherished those of her former 
husband as if they were his own. Both of them 
possessed in an eminent degree the attractive qualities 
of their mother ; and ITapoleon heaped upon them con- 
tinual evidences of his affection. Eugene had acted 
as his aid-de-camp, both in Italy and in Egypt ; at 
Marengo, he had commanded a brigade of the Guard ; 
in 1804, he was made an imperial prince and arch- 
chancellor of state ; in 1805, immediately dUr 'N&- 
poleon's coronation at Milan, he was nominated viceroy 
of Italy, and subsequently. Prince of Yenice, and heir 
of the Lombardo-Yenetian crown. Hortense was de- 
signed by I^apoleon to be given in marriage to his 
favorite aid-de-camp, Duroc, whose handsome person 
and gallant bearing had already won her girlish admi- 
ration. But Josephine artfully opposed this arrange- 
ment, from a natural anxiety she labored, under of 
drawing still closer the ties that tinited her with her 
husband ; for her barrenness had already become the 



MAERIAGE OF LOTJlS AND HOETENSE. 53 

theme of opprobrium on the part of Joseph and Lu- 
cien, who labored assiduously with their brother to im- 
press upon him the expediency of a divorce. On this 
account, she was intent to bring about a marriage 
between Louis Bonaparte and Hortense, through which 
she hoped to defeat the insidious suggestions of her 
enemies. But serious obstacles stood in the way of 
her accomplishing her design ; for the young couple 
had an absolute antipathy toward each other, and 
both were actually in love with other parties. Louis 
had become enamored of Josephine's niece- — Louise- 
Emilie, daughter of Francis, Marquis de Beauharnais, 
her first husband's elder brother — without, however, 
engaging the young lady's affections in return. Louis, 
whose character was naturally of a pensive cast, took 
his disappointment grievously to heart ; and, joined 
to an infirm stfite of health, it produced in him a 
melancholy which preyed on him all the remainder of 
his life. He never ceased to mourn the loss he had 
sustained ; and when the proposition of a union with 
Hortense was made to him, he recoiled from it with 
abhorrence. He resisted all persuasions with a settled 
determination ; and it was only by much skillful 
maneuvering that Josephine at length succeeded in 
extorting his consent. She had wrung from her 
daughter, too, an unwilling acquiescence ; and on the 
4:th of January, 1802, the ill-assorted knot was tied — 
the gloomy countenances of the affianced belying the 
factitious joy of the courtly retinue that graced their 
inauspicious nuptials. 

"Without connubial Juno's aid they wed : 
IJor Hymen nor the Graces bliess the bed I " 



54: KAPOLEOK BONAPARTE. 

" ISTever," exclaims Louis, in a tone of anguish, " was 
there a more gloomy ceremony ? E"ever had husband 
and wife a stronger presentiment of the horrors of a 
reluctant and ill-assorted union!" Louis was then 
twenty-four, and Hortense about eighteen. From this 
he dates the commencement of his unhappiness, his 
bodily and mental sufferings. It stamped on his whole 
existence a profound melancholy, a dejection, a drying 
of the heart, which, he adds, " nothing ever could, or 
ever will remedy." As for Hortense, who had only 
left Madame Campan's boarding-school a few weeks 
before the wedding, a lady who was present at a ball 
giv^n in honor of it by Madame de Montesson, states, 
that "every countenance beamed with satisfaction, 
save that of the bride, whose profound melancholy 
formed a sad contrast to the happiness which she 
might have been expected to evince : she seemed to 
shun her husband's very looks, lest he should read in 
hers the indifference she felt toward him. Covered 
with diamonds and flowers, she appeared insensible to 
every thing save regret. Froin that day, sorrow might 
easilv have been auo^ured from a marriaoje where the 
contracting parties were so little agreeable to each 
other." 

The correspondence between Duroc and Hortense, 
had been so long and so openly conducted, as to be 
known to several members of the consular household. 
The moral character of Hortense was scarcely above 
reproach. Although married to Louis at the early age 
of eighteen, she is said to have had two children 
before her union with him, one of whom died in in- 
fancy, and the other is still living and holding an office 



JOSEPHINE TO HOETENSE. 55 

of considerable dignity under the French government. 
Foiiche even goes so far as to intimate that the 
object of "the alliance was to throw a vail over an al- 
ready existing intimacy between Napoleon and his 
step-daughter. Certain it is, that Josephine knew of 
these allegations, so injurious to her honor and her 
peace. From the following letter, indeed, written long 
afterward, it not only appears that she was well aware 
of them, but that Hortense, in one to which this is the 
answer, had accused her mother of being opposed to 
the separation from Louis, a^ giving credit to the 
reports of having a rival in her daughter. 

JOSEPHINE TO HORTENSE. 

" You have ill-understood me, my child ; there is 
nothing equivocal in my words, as there cannot exist 
an uncandid sentiment in my heart. How could you 
conceive that I participate in some ridiculous, or per- 
haps, malicious opinions ? Xo ! you do not think that 
I believe you to be my rival. We, indeed, both reign 
in the same bosom, though by very different, yet 
equally sacred rights ; and they who, in the affection 
which my husband manifests for you, have pretended 
to discover other sentiments than those of a parent and 
a friend, know not his soul. His is a mind too ele- 
vated above the vulgar ever to be accessible to the pas- 
sions. That of glory, if you will, engrosses him too 
entirely for our repose ; but, at least, glory inspires 
nothing vile. Such, as touching him, is my profession 
of faith. I make the confession to you in all sincerity, 
in order ta allay your inquietudes. When I recom- 
mended to you to love, or, at least, not to repulse Louis, 
I spoke to you in my character of an experienced wife, 
an attentive mother, and tender friend, and in this 
threefold relation do I now embrace v^u." 

On the accession of ITapoleon lc the imperial dig- 
nity, (18th May, 1804,) it became of paramount 



56 NAPOLEON BONAPAETE. 

importance with the founder of the dynasty, to decide 
how and by whom it should be perpetuated. He had 
himself no ofispring, and therefore must choose a col- 
lateral heir. The imperial crown was settled on his 
male descendants — these failing, on those of Joseph, 
and next, on those of Louis. The exclusion of Lucien 
and Jerome, shows that they were not in such favor 
with the Emperor as the other two brothers. When the 
decree was referred for ratification to the French peo- 
ple, (2Tth November, 1804,) 3,521,675 affirmative, and 
only 2,579 negative votes were recorded. 

Having thus settled the foundations of his empire, 
as he deemed, on an imperishable basis, the warlike 
Corsican prepared to wage battle against the confeder- 
ated powers of Europe, and exalt his greatness to a yet 
more colossal height : and, in truth, the armies of the 
continent were extinguished by him with a facility 
which might well inflate him with notions of his om- 
nipotence on earth. At TJlm and Austerlitz he pros- 
trated the Austrian empire ; at Jena he dissolved in a 
day the accumulated dominion of Frederick and ther 
house of Brandenburg ; at Friedland he annihilated 
the martial host of barbaric Russia ; at Tilsit he bound 
the successor of the savage RomanzofFs captive to his 
chariot, and whirled him to the precipice on which he 
had well-nigh met his ruin. Then supreme dominator 
of the potentates he suffered to reign in corners of 
their former territories, he trod upon their necks with 
a pride and insolence wholly unparalleled. From !N"a- 
ples he expelled the hostile race of Bourbons, and 
placed on its throne his brother Joseph ; in Holland 
he planted Louis as king ; and at Cassel, across the 



THE FAMILY OF KINGS. 67 

Rhine, over a heterogeneous compound called the 
kingdom of "Westphalia, he fixed Jerome as a mon- 
arch. Caroline he gratified by making her husband 
Grand-Duke of Berg, constituting him a sovereign over 
300,000 wretched Germans. This system of vassal- 
fiefs he completed by the confederation of the Ehine, 
in which he enrolled the second-class powers of Ger- 
many as his immediate dependents — such as Saxony, 
Bavaria, and Wurtemburg, whose reigning princes he 
created kings. Thus he obliterated the ancient Ger- 
man empire, and absorbed the greatest part of it 
within the folds of his exorbitant ascendancy. But 
even such aggrandizements were insuflicient to appease 
the devouring lusts of his heart. He must needs form 
alliances with sovereign houses. Accordingly, he 
united his adopted son Eugene to the eldest daughter 
of the king of Bavaria ; and having compelled Jerome 
to discard his fair American, he extorted from the re- 
luctant king of Wurtemburg his daughter Catharine 
as a wife for his graceless majesty of WestpLalia. A 
niece of the Empress Josephine, Stephanie de Beau- 
harnais, he married to the hereditary prince of Baden ; 
while another niece, the beautiful Mademoiselle de 
Tascher, being created a French princess for the occa- 
sion, was given in wedlock to the young heir of the 
house of Aremburg. By these courtly alliances he 
thought to consolidate his sway, to extend the ramifi- 
cations of his influence, and to have the obscurity 
of his origin forgotten. It is melancholy that so 
witless a conceit, and so poor a vanity, should have 
overmastered one of the mightiest of human under- 
etandings! Upon all these distributions and alliancea 



58 NAPOLEON BONAPAETE. 

of her sons and daughters, the venerable Madame 
Leetitia is said to have looked with a calm and only 
half-believing eje, living quietly at Paris, and care- 
fiillj economizing her income. " Who knows," she is 
reported to have said, " but I may have to keep all 
those kini>;s and queens one day?" 

When, to the facts above enumerated, we add that 
Prussia and Austria were servile through defeat, that 
Sweden was governed by the Frenchman Bernadotte, a 
relative of the Bonapartes, that Russia was acquiescent, 
and that only Great Britain was stubborn and irrecon- 
cilable, we shall have an idea of the distance that 
Napoleon had advanced in the path to universal em- 
pire. To secure what had already been attained, to 
put all else within his grasp, and to give to the work 
of his life that roundness and finish that he wished it 
to have in the eyes of posterity, only one thing further 
seemed necessary — his own marriage, namely, with a 
princess of the house of Austria. By such a measure, 
it seemed, two things would be accomplished — the 
East of Europe would be permanently linked with the 
West, forming a confederacy so vast in the body, that 
mere extremities like Eussia, Sweden, and Great 
Britain, would be forced to give in to it ; and the tri- 
umphant work of modern genius would be guaranteed 
in a manner satisfactory to the spirit of progressive 
civilization, by being grafted on the gnarled stock of 
the whole European past. By such calculations of a 
moral algebra, did Napoleon reconcile himself to these 
two important steps in his life — his divorce from the 
Empress Josephine, registered the 10th of December, 
J809 ; and his marriage with the Archduchess ]\Iari{|- 



WATERLOO. 59 

Louisa, daughter of Francis 11. To consummate all 
his expectations from this marriage, only one thing 
remained to be desired — the birth of a son. In this 
also his wishes were satisfied ; and on the 20th of 
March, 1811. the booming of a hundred and one guns 
over Paris proclaimed the birth of a King of Eome. 
At his christening, a few days afterward, the imperial 
child received the name of I^apoleon-Francois. 

But the star of JSTapoleon had reached its zenith. 
The disastrous invasion of Kussia, followed by the mem- 
orable campaigns of 1813-14, laid the work of years 
in ruins ; the entry of the allied armies into Paris, 
31st March, 1814, was the crowning stroke of misfor- 
tune ; and on the 4th of April was signed the famous 
act whereby IS^apoleon unconditionally abdicated, for 
himself and his heirs, the empire he had so long held. 
Eetaining the imperial title, and receiving from 
France, as a tribute for his past services, an annual 
revenue of six millions of francs, (11,200,000,) the con- 
queror was to be shut up for the rest of his days, a 
splendid European relic, in the little island of Elba. 
For ten months he endured the captivity, the assem- 
bled diplomatists of Europe, meanwhile, re-arranging at 
Vienna, the chaos that he had left behind him ; but at 
length the old spirit prevailed in him ; France again 
contained the Emperor ; Louis XYIIL fied ; and the 
fluttered diplomatists, kicking over the table at which 
they had been sitting, had to postpone further proceed- 
ings till they should again have caged their imperial 
bird. But the struggle was short; the last hopes of 
Kapoleon were crushed on the field of Waterloo ; and 
a few months more saw him confined to the distant 



60 NAPOLEON BONAPAETE. 

and solitary rock, where, May 5th, 1821, he closed 
his extraordinary career. 

From the first, Louis and Hortense pretended to no 
regard for each other, and from the date of their mar- 
riage, in January, 1802, to that of their final sepa- 
ration, in September, 1807, they were not together 
more than four months in the whole, and that at three 
wide intervals. As soon as the political necessities 
that had kept them together, ceased to exist, they 
separated by mutual consent. Hortense went to Paris, 
where she resided in great splendor at court, and 
where her third son, the subject of this memoir, 
was born, April 20, 1808. Napoleon Charles, the first 
son of Louis and Hortense, was born October 10th, 
1802, and I^apoleon Louis, the second, October 11, 
1804:. Charles Louis l^apoleon, (or, as he now calls 
himself, Louis N"apoleon,) was the first prince of the 
family born after ]^apoleon had assumed the title of 
Emperor, and his birth was celebrated in the most 
magnificent manner. Salvos of artillery announced 
along the whole line of the " grands armee^'^ through- 
out the vast extent of the empire, that another heir to 
the im[ e'ial scepter was born. France was at that 
time in the apogee of its grandeur. The genius of 
Bonaparte was reorganizing Europe, and, in order to 
give to his power on the continent an appearance of 
predominance, the Emperor received with joy the new- 
born male heir to his political fortunes. At this su- 
perb epoch, his divorce from Josephine had not been 
seriously contemplated. His nephews were, therefore, 
considered by him as the future continuators of his 
projects, name and power. Napoleon Charles, bad 



DEATH OF PKINCE NAPOLEON CHAKLES. 61 

evinced, from earliest infancy, the happiest disposi- 
tions, and had gained, in an astonishing manner, upon 
the affections and hopes of his uncle. He was, besides, 
the first-born ; and except his two brothers, the only 
acknowledged son of the imperial family in direct 
male lineage ; his father was the Emperor's favorite 
brother, and his birth drew more closely the ties which 
united his wife and her children to the affections of 
Napoleon. There appears, therefore, no reason for 
discrediting the belief then generally entertained of 
the Emperor's intention to adopt the child. Thus, in 
the offspring of her daughter, Josephine would have 
given a successor to the throne of France, and, as has 
been remarked by a French writer, " her own sorrows, 
perhaps all the evils that followed, might have been 
prevented." 

The boy upon whom the destinies of so great an em- 
pire may thus be said to have rested, died at the Hague, 
(180T) after a few hours' illness, of the Group. So sud- 
den and fatal was the attack, that before Corvisart's 
directions could be received, which, from his knowl- 
edge of the complaint, might have proved effectual, 
the child had ceased to live.^ Hortense never quitted 
the room for an instant. When all was over, her 
attendants endeavored gently to wile her from the 
apartment : but divining their purpose, even in the 
distraction of grief, she clung with such convulsive 
grasp to a sofa by the bed of her child, that her arms 
could not be unfolded, and she was carried out in this 
condition. For hours the most alarming apprehensions 

* Oorvisavt. Napoleon's private physician, was the first who made 
«uccesb/ul researches on this disease. 



62 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 

were entertained for the qneen's life. In vain were 
remedies applied ; her eves continued fixed and 
without a tear, her breathing oppressed, and her limbs 
rigid and motionless, till one of the chamberlains, 
bearing in the dead body of the little prince, laid it on 
the mother's knees, leaving the rest to nature. The 
sight of her son, now shrouded in the peaceful attire of 
the grave, recalled the unhappy Hortense to a more 
present and tender sentiment of her loss ; she caught 
the inanimate form to her bosom, and despair yielded 
to the sweet agony of tears. 

To Josephine this loss was irremediable ; hers was 
a grief not less acute, yet greater than a mother's 
sorrow ; for while she grieved for a beloved child, she 
trembled to think what might be the consequence to 
herself. Naturally fond of children, she had loved the 
young Napoleon Charles with a tenderness corre- 
sponding to the hopes concentrated on his head. After 
receiving intelligence of a bereavement which had 
reached her, before she had perfect knowledge that the 
blow was menaced, she shut herself up for three days, 
weeping bitterly ; and, as if to nourish grief, collecting 
around her his portrait, his hair, his playthings, — 
every relic that might recall the image of her grandson. 
A melancholy coincidence added to the poignancy of 
her sorrow on the sight of the portrait. Some time 
before setting out for the campaign of Tilsit, the Em- 
peror had held a review of the guard, and, on retiring 
to his apartments in the Tuileries, had, according to 
custom, flung his sword on one seat and his hat on 
another, continuing to walk through the saloon in 
, conversation with Josephine. Meanwhile, the child 



ANECDOTES OF NviPOLEON CHARLES. 63 

had entered unobserved, and, putting the sword-belt 
over his little neck, and the hat upon his head, began 
to follow behind his uncle with military step, attempt- 
ing, at the- same time, to whistle a favorite march. 
ISTapoleon turned round, took the boj in his arms, and 
kissed him fondly, saying, " See, Josephine, what a 
charming picture ! " The empress, ever studious to 
gratify her husband, had the young prince painted in 
this costume by Gerard. The portrait was sent to St. 
Cloud on the very morning which brought the sad 
intelligence of the death of the original. 

The boy was very like his father, and, consequently, 
bore a strong resemblance to the Emperor. His haii 
was fair, his eyes blue, and his countenance marked 
with extraordinary intelligence. He was likewise ex- 
tremely fond of his uncle, who, in turn, doted upon 
him as if he had been his own child. One morning, 
when silently making his way through the saloon, 
amid a crowd of distinguished personages, Murat, then 
Grand-Duke of Berg, caught him in his arms. " What ! 
Napoleon, not bid me good morning ! " " No," said 
the child, disengaging himself, " not before my uncle 
the EmperorP In like manner, every thing he re- 
ceived from his uncle was preferred to all others 
King Louis, who loved him tenderly, seeing he disre- 
garded some new playthings he had just brought him, 
said, "Why, my dear child., look how very ugly the 
old ones are ! " " Ah ! yes, papa, but I got them from 
my uncle." 

What chiefly delighted Napoleon was, the firmness 
of character, and, if the desires of the child may be 
so termed, the predilection for war displayed by his 



64: NAPOLEON B0NAPAE.TI5. 

intended heir. Often, in their amusements, the Em- 
peror would put these qualities to curious but severe 
tests. At breakfast, he would seat him upon his knee, 
making the poor little fellow taste ot such things as 
are usually most annoying to cnildren ; the spirited 
boy would try to look stern, but never refused to take 
what was offered, though spite and vexation were 
painted on every feature of his really beautiful coun- 
tenance. Strawberries (and it is curious that the fruit 
produced similar effects on Maria Louisa's son) always 
brought on severe indisposition. Though a favorite 
dish, they were, of course, strictly prohibited ; but one 
day the prince had so wrought upon his nurse, that 
she permitted him to eat a large quantity. The usual 
consequence ensued ; he was attacked by sickness and 
vomiting. Hortense insisted on knowing who had dis- 
obeyed her orders. "Mamma," said the courageous 
boy, though still suffering, " you may punish me, but I 
gave my word not to tell, and I will never break my 
promise." An affecting circumstance is the solicitude 
shown by this singular child in his parents' misunder- 
standings ; on observing their estrangement, he would 
take his father's hand, who thus suffered himself to be 
conducted to the queen, and the artless pleadings of 
their son rarely failed to reconcile two beings possess 
ing great goodness of heart, but both suffering from 
the not uncommon calamity in married life of misun- 
derstanding each other's feelings. 

The most bi illiant honors and the solemnity of public 
rejoicings attended the birth of Louis l^apoleon. A 
family register for the children of the imperial dynasty 
was deposited in the senate, as the great book of the 



PEINCE LOPIS NAPOLEON. 65 

right of succession. The name of the new prince was 
there inscribed with much pomp. The King of Rome 
was the second and only one after him. The former 
was baptized in 1811, at the palace of Fontainbleau. 

The prince, Charles Louis E'apoleon, third son of 
Louis Bonaparte and Queen Ilortense, was a child 
greatly beloved by the Emperor, who was accustomed 
to draw amusements from, and find recreation in, his 
innocent prattle ; it often served as a distraction in the 
midst of those weighty cares and meditations which 
constantly occupied his mind. Napoleon gave to his 
family nothing but the brief season of his repasts. He 
breakfasted in his cabinet, and alone, at a small table, 
which no one except the two sons of the king of Hol- 
land ever shared. He would often send for them in 
order to inform himself of the progress of their 
studies, and to watch the development of the ideas of 
the two princes, upon whom rested the hopes of his 
future. He questioned them with interest, amused 
himself with their innocent conversation, and always 
made them recite fables of his own selection, of which, 
he gave them explanations, and afterward asked them 
for an account, as an exercise of their young under- 
standings. Their progress was one of the greatest 
sources of his satisfaction and delight. 

On his return from Elba, he saw the children again, 
with renewed pleasure, and his happiness at their 
health and progress, was the greater, because he had 
been then deprived of his own son, who was in Yienna. 
His nephews appeared to fill his place in J^apoleon's 
affections. He was desirous that they should be con- 
stantly near him, and under his own eyes. At that 

5. 



66 NAPOLEON BONAPAKTEJ. 

time Prince Louis Napoleon was seven years old. One 
day, the eve of the Emperor's departure for the fatal 
campaign of Waterloo, E'apoleon had just entered his 
cabinet ; he appeared anxious and sad, and tKe brevity 
and sharpness of his words revealed the deep and 
engrossing thoughts which occupied his mind. Sud- 
denly a young boy slipped into the apartment and 
approached the Emperor ; his whole countenance was 
impressed with an air of sorrow, and his whole pro^ 
ceedings gave evidence that he was under the influ- 
ence of some deep emotion, which he was endeavoring 
to restrain. The child, having approached, threw him- 
self on his knees before the Emperor, hid his head in 
his lap, and clasped his legs with his arms, and then 
his tears began to flow in abundance. "What ails 
you, Louis ? " cried the Emperor, in a tone which indi- 
cated his annoyance at the interruption. " Why have 
you come? For what are you crying?" The child, 
frightened by his manner, could only reply by sobs. 
Having, however, by degrees recovered confidence and 
become calm, he at last said, with a sweet, but melan- 
choly voice — " Sire, my governess has just told me 
that you are about to set out for the war! Oh ! do not 
go ! do not go ! " " But why do you not wish me to 
go?" said the Emperor, with a voice suddenly ren- 
dered mild by the solicitude of his youthful nephew — 
for it was Prince Louis ]^apoleon, the young favorite 
of the Emperor. "Why do you not wish me to go, 
my child ? " repeated he, lifting up his head, and run- 
ning his fingers through his beautiful light hair. " It 
is not the first time I have left for the war. Do not 
be alarmed — fear nothing, for I shall soon return." 



PRESENTIMENT. 67 

" Oh !" replied the young prince, while he continued 
to weep, " Oh ! my dear uncle, those wicked allies are 
eager to kill you. Let me go, uncle ; let me go with 
you." To this the Emperor made no reply, but having 
taken the young prince upon his knee, he pressed him 
in his arms and embraced him with warmth and affec- 
tion. Then, after addressing some kind and playful 
words to the prince, in order to console him, he was 
about to restore him to his mother, when, perceiving 
the effect of his emotion upon one of his officers, he 
said, " Come, embrace him ; he will have a good heart, 
and amiable dispositions. He is, perhaps, the hope of 
my race!" This was presentiment for presentiment. 
Prince Louis E'apoleon had not attained his eighth 
year, when he was forced away from the soil of Franco 
in 1815. Like the King of Rome he refused to go 
into banishment. The queen, his mother, had great 
trouble to make him submit to his fate ; and when the 
Emperor came to Malmaison, to bid his last adieu to 
his family, he could only be torn by violence from his 
embrace ; he refused to be separated from his uncle, 
and cried bitterly, saying that he wanted to fire the 
cannon upon his tyrants. 



CHAPTER II. 

RESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS. 

The palace of Fontainbleau is one of the most an- 
cient and magnificent in France. Among the many ex- 
traordinary transactions that have taken place within 
its walls, — which had been the scene of the joys and 
revelry, the intrigues and debauchery of the French 
monarchs, for centuries, — none were more remarkable 
than the abdication of l^apoleon, whose empire had 
sprung from the Revolution in which the crimes com- 
mitted at Fontainbleau had met with such a terrible 
expiation. 

"No one need look beyond the history of Fontain- 
bleau for the origin of the most sanguinary and bloody 
of Revolutions. The infidelity and immorality that 
played at the apex of society found their way rapidly 
to its broad and extended base. The bloodiest heroes 
of the Revolution w^ere the sons and grandsons of the 
men who had been taught by their rulers that there is 
no God in the universe, and no happiness on earth 
that is not found in the overthrow of the moral sense 
and in the anarchy of the passions. There had been a 
clear renunciation, on the part of the kings, of all the 
duties they owed to the people, before the masses re- 
belled against the authority of the crown. 

Fontainbleau, from an early period, was in possession 



PALACE OF FONTAINBLEAU. 69 

of the French kings, but was not much used as a 
royal residence until the accession of Francis I. in 
1515. He employed many artists to fit it up on the 
reception of Charles Y. "If Charles Y. dares to 
traverse France," said Tribault, the King's jester, " I 
will give him my fool's cap." " And if I allow him to 
pass ? " asked the monarch. " Then," replied the fool, 
with a wisdom which subsequent events justified, " I 
will take back my cap and make you a present of it ! " 
Francis laughed and Charles arrived. 

In 1546, Francis I. fell sick, and saw all the courtiers 
of Fontainbleau abandon him to seek the favor of his 
successor. Anger revived his strength; he left his bed 
of suffering, painted his cheeks, put on his silk and 
velvet clothes, and declaring himself cured, went to 
the cathedral to return thanks for his recovery. All 
the courtiers returned in alarm and fell upon their 
knees. " Ah ! ah ! " said he, with an ironical smile, 
"I have once more been able to inspire them with 
fear ! " Then, exhausted by this efibrt, he fell back and 
soon expired. Tradition relates that he gave one day 
a brilliant proof of his coiirage and strength. A ser- 
pent eighteen feet long — if Guillaume Morin can be 
believed — had become the terror of the hunters and 
of the peasants. He could not be attacked, because 
he hid himself between the rocks, and it was, therefore, 
necessary to vanquish him by single combat. 'No one 
would undertake this. " Well, I will attempt it ! " 
said the king. " For which purpose, (adds the chroni 
cler,) he caused to be made an entire suit of armor, 
covered in several places with sharp blades, so that 
the serpent attempting to twine around him and enfold 



70 KE8T0EATI0N OF THE BOURBONS. 

him, was cut in pieces, and the combatant pierced 
his throat ; and, having killed him, he returned victo- 
rious, with the astonishment of the whole court, that 
a man should have the resolution to contend with a 
monster so venomous and formidable." If this story 
seems fabulous, we cannot help it ; the author of the 
History of Gatenais believes the circumstances as if he 
had seen it. 

A revolution of the boudoir followed at Fontain- 
bleau the death of Francis I. The prince's favorite, 
before the Duchess d'Etampes, had been the beautiful 
Diana de Poitiers, a duchess of the same stamp, under 
the name of Yalentinois. From the father she had 
passed to the son, and governed the court of the 
dauphin, while her rival governed the court of the 
king. Leaning over the cleath-bed of Francis I., she 
had watched his last sigh, and said laughingly to the 
Duke of Guise — "He is going bravely, he is going!" 
As soon as he had actually expired — as «oon as the 
scepter was within the hands of Henry H., a woman 
arrived in haste at Fontainbleau. She entered, with 
lofty and radiant brow, and summoned the officers and 
porters, who were still in tears. (Fidelity has always 
been the virtue of the little.) She showed them an 
order of the new king, enjoining them to open the 
doors for her. She went directly to the room where 
the finest diamonds of the crown were kept. In this 
room she found another woman, who had worn them 
the da}^ before, and who, like the servants, was bathing 
her mourning robes with her tears. "With a bitter and 
disdainful look she froze the grief which merited her 
respect. She seized the dianaoiids m her prey; adorned 



THE RIYAL MISTEESSES. 71 

with them her hair, her breast, her arms, her girdle ; 
and putting the rest in a golden casket, traversed the 
palace, admiring herself in every mirror, and com- 
manding like a queen who is taking possession of her 
dominions. A few moments after, two women met at 
the Porte Doree — she who had just been weeping, and 
she who had usurped her place. The one was more 
desolate and more humble still ; the other had never 
been so beautiful and so triumphant. The one uttered 
a long sigh, and almost swooned on the threshold ; the 
other bid her adieu with a burst of laughter, and had 
nearly crushed her under the feet of her horse. The 
first was Madame d' Etampes, the sovereign of the 
day before, who was going on foot to finish her days in 
some humble retreat. The second was Diana of Poi- 
tiers, the present sovereign, who was returning in her 
carriage to Henry II. Diana was then forty-four, 
and had never been more beautiful, says Brantome, 
who could not yet, seventeen years after, recall her 
without emotion. This phoenix of grace, this monster 
of pride, reigned at Fontainbleau without a rival. 
Henry II. limited himself to being the most valiant 
knight, the most courageous champion, the most active 
leaper in Prance ; in other respects well enough, a 
slave of his favorite through amiability of disposition, 
as well as through indolence of mind. Meanwhile, the 
true queen, who was one day to become Catherine de 
Medicis, saw with a gloomy and jealous eye this power 
which supplanted hers, and acquired amid the shame- 
ful corruptions, the diabolical genius of which she 
afterward gave such formidable proofs. She shook off 
the jokcj ajid threw aside the n^ask, on the very day 



72 EESTOEATION OF THE BOUKBONS. 

of Henry Il.'s death. Struck in the tournej of the Eue 
St. Antoine by a fragment from the lance of Mont- 
gomery, the king was still breathing when an officer 
went in search of the Duchess of Yalentinois. " In the 
name of Queen Catherine," said he to her, " deliver up 
the diamonds of the crown and quit the palace imme- 
diately." " While Henry H. breathes," fiercely replied 
Diana, "I acknowledge no master below!" And she 
remained, in fact, until evening. But the next day the 
king was no more, and she left Fontainbleau, for her 
chateau of Anet. 

Under Charles IX. and Henry lY., Fontainbleau 
was the theater of gayety and voluptuousness. The 
majestic but malignant Catherine de Medicis and the 
belle Gabrielle d' Estrees were its most celebrated mis- 
tresses. It was at Fontainbleau that the great heart 
of Henry devised the sublime plan of dividing Europe 
into fifteen dilferent states, so well balanced and gov- 
erned that civil or national wars should be impossible. 
May our century see the essential realization of that 
dream, which elevates Henry lY. to the first rank of 
philanthropists ! He had already converted to his ideas 
Rome and Yenice, Savoy, England, Denmark, Sweden, 
the Protestants of Hungary and Bohemia, Austria, and 
the United Provinces. Spain and the Emperor Ro- 
dolphe alone repelled this fraternal alliance, and con- 
strained the king of France to prepare for a war, 
which was to bring about universal peace. The poniard 
of Ravillac put an end at once to the great man and 
his great project. 

The reign of Louis XIY. was truly characterized by 
the remark of Gronville : " The misfortunes of the 



LOUIS XIY. 73 

succeeding reigns were his work, and he has hardly 
influenced posterity except for its ruin." Louis was 
equally dissolute and bigoted. 'No words that we can 
venture to employ, would give an adequate idea of the 
profligacy prevalent under his reign — of the debauch- 
eries of the clergy, the vileness of the courtiers, the 
immorality of all classes. " The clergy, (says Dulaure,) 
with the exception of a few men of genius, who threw 
a bright luster upon their century, and a few others, 
commendable for their talents and regular lives, were 
plunged in ignorance and dissoluteness. When the 
conversion of the Protestants was undertaken, hardly a 
priest was to be found in the rural districts capable of 
instructing them by his discourse, and of edifying 
them by his conduct. The king set an example of dis- 
order by his gallantries." A king who scrupled not to 
travel with his wife and his two mistresses, (de Mont- 
espan and la Yalliere,) all in tlie same carriage — while 
the people flocked to see the three queens, as they 
called them — could with ill grace have shown himself 
too severe a censor of his subjects. Later, however 
in the height of his fanaticism, when he was com- 
pletely in the hands of the pious Madame de Mainte- 
non and his spiritual advisers, and religion was the 
order of the day, the clergy and courtiers continued 
their evil courses, merely adding hypocrisy to their 
other vices. While the king was occupied with his 
amours, (says Duclos,) the court was gallant ; the con- 
fessor stepped in and took possession, and it became 
dull and hypocritical. The courtiers ran to the chapel 
as they before had hurried to ball and pageant ; but the 
king was still the god to whom the worship wa9 



74 EESTORATION OF THE BOUKBONS. 

addressed. He had opportunities of perceiving this. 
Once when he was expected at evening prayer, the 
aisles were full of courtly devotees. Brissac, major of 
the body-guard, entered the chapel, and said aloud to his 
men that the king was not coming, and withdrew them 
In an instant the chapel emptied itself A quarter cf 
an hour afterward, Brissac replaced the guards. The 
king arrived, and was astonished at the extraordinary 
solitude. Brissac told him the reason ; Louis laughed, 
and perhaps he pardoned the indifference to religion in 
favor of the respect and fear shown to his person. The 
corruption of the court was extreme. "They united, 
(says Dulaure,) pride with baseness, licentiousness with 
devotion, the forms of politeness with acts of cruelty. 
When too old for amorous intrigues, they became pas- 
sionate gamblers, quarrelsome, litigious, false devotees, 
the tyrants of their homes, the curse of their families. 
The annals of tribunals, and historical records, afford 
abundant and indisputable proofs of the truth of this 
picture." When devotion (or hypocrisy,) had become 
the fashion at court, " the lady gamblers, (says a con- 
temporary writer,) upon separating, pronounced a 
formula, by which they reciprocally made each other a 
present of such gains as they might have acquired by 
cheating ! This mode of defrauding God, practiced by 
so many pious harpies, even in the very apartments of 
Madame de Maintenon, appeared to me an eminently 
characteristic trait." The mixture of bigotry and liber 
tinism, prevalent at the end of the 17th century, was 
most curious. Compliance with the forms of religion, 
with fasts and penitence, was held far more important 
than a virtuous life. Louis XIY.'s son, known as the 



BUEIAL OF LOUIS XIV. 75 

grand -dauphin, considered it one of the blackest of 
crimes to eat meat on a fast-day. During Lent he sent 
to Paris for one of his mistresses, an actress named 
Raisin ; and when she came he gave her nothing to 
eat but salad and bread fried in oil, imagining that a 
sin avoided expiated a sin committed ! The king's 
brother, eating a biscuit, said to the Abbe Feuillet, a 
canon of St. Cloud, " This is not breaking the fast." 
'^ Eat a calf, (replied the priest, with a frankness and 
honesty rare at that time,) and be a Christian ! " It was 
the age of hypocrisy and outward observ^ance. The 
husk of religion was offered to God ; the grain was 
nowhere.' People went daily to church ; there to talk 
and laugh, and see their friends. 

\No monarch had ever been so flattered in life as 
Louis XIY. ; few have been so insulted in death. 'No 
one was ever more magnificent in his expenditures ; 
few have been buried with so little pomp. It was an 
occasion of great rejoicing. His wife abandoned him 
several days before his death. While his cofiin was 
being deposited in its final resting-place, the writers of 
lampoons and satires, were hard at work at the poor 
king's expense. 

This dissolute monarch, who blazoned forth his 
adulteries, and set aside the laws of marriage when he 
proclaimed the children of his mistress to be as legiti- 
mate as his lawful issue, was a strict devotee, and 
made eager efforts to persuade the Huguenots to return 
to the Catholic faith — efforts which, when unsuccess- 
ful, were replaced by the most oppressive and cruel 
measures. The persecutions were preceded and ac- 
^.ompanied by ardent attempts at nroselytism. On all 



76 RESTORATION OF THE BOTIRBONS. 

sides missionaries were at work. When thej failed 
dragoons replaced them. The sword succeeded the 
crucifix. Neither were successful; but a hundred and 
fifty thousand families, belonging to the most intelli- 
gent portion of the French population, fled from their 
native land, where religious liberty was refused them, 
to enrich other countries- by their ingenuity and indus- 
try. By guarding the frontiers, Louvois endeavored, 
but in vain, to check this wholesale emigration, the 
evil of which was insufficient to wrest concession from 
the king. "The first of religions for Louis XIY.," 
says Duclos, "was the belief in the royal authority. 
Ignorant, besides, in matters of doctrine, superstitious 
in his devotion, he pursued a real or imaginary heresy 
as an act of disobedience, and thought to expiate his 
fault by persecution." 

The first formal visit of Louis XY. at Fontainbleau, 
was the denouement of a touching story. Stanislaus, 
formerly king of Poland, but dethroned by Peter the 
Great, was pensioned by the generosity of France. 
The hand of his daughter, Marie Leczinska, had been 
demanded in marriage by the Count d'Estrees. The 
king gave his consent on condition that d'Estrees 
would obtain the rank of duke. "When the count pre- 
sented himself to the regent, (Louis XY. being yet a 
minor,) and stated his request and the object of it, that 
personage replied — " You are mad, to think of marry- 
ing the daughter of an ex-king, who has not the means 
of subsistence. She is the worst match in Europe. 
Think no more of it. I will cure you of your fine 
passion, by marrying you to the daughter of a farmer- 
general, with a dowry of some millions. You shall. 



THE QUEEN AND THE DtJCHESS. 77 

after that, be a duke and peer, if you like. We will 
arrange this business. Come to-morrow and sup at 
the Palais Royal ! " Louis XY. remained pensive, and 
d'Estrees, abashed, allowed himself to be drawn away 
by the regent. He renounced the hand of the prin- 
cess, under pretexts which scarcely concealed forget- 
fulness and disdain. This was the last drop of the 
cup which the proscribed king had drank to the dregs. 
His daughter was repulsed, as an unworthy match, 
by an officer of the guards — turned from his honor- 
able pur230se by the raillery of the regent. But his sor- 
row was soon turned to joy. The same courier who 
carried to him the letter of d'Estrees was also the 
bearer of another fi-om Louis XY., demanding the 
hand of Marie in marriage. The bride, scorned by an 
officer, became the Queen of France and of E'avarre ! 
The portrait drawn by d' Estrees of the graces of Marie, 
had remained engraved on the heart of the young 
monarch, and Providence had done the rest. The 
marriage of Louis XY. and Marie Leczinska, was cele- 
brated formally at Fontainbleau, in the month of 
September, 1725. The new queen avenged herself on 
the officer of the guards only by procuring for him the 
titles of duke and peer, and saying to a friend, when 
the Duchess d' Estrees came to pay her court — "I 
might have been in the place of this lady, and have 
done reverence to the queen of France." 

The immoderate love of pleasure during the reign 
of Louis XY., and which, from the higher descended to 
the lower classes, and was defended or excused by the 
infidel philosophy of the day, occasioned a fearful 
separation of reason from morality, and of the passions 



?^ iJESTOJSATION Of tME BOTJliBoNS. 

from rectitude. The moral infection spread fartlicr 
and farther, and ate deeper and deeper into the roots 
of public spirit and every civil virtue. Even Louis 
XIY.5 despite the badness of his example, left the fol- 
lowing noble advice to his grandson — " Do not bur- 
den the people with needless expenditures. Love 
peace, and undertake no war, except when the good 
of the state and the welfare of your people render it 
neces-sary." A much deeper impression should have 
been made on the mind of the royal child, by the con- 
duct of the people who accompanied the hearse of his 
father with insults and the grossest expressions of joy. 
But Yilleroi, his teacher, used to carry him from win 
dow to window of the palace, exclaiming — "See 
there, my king ! your people; all these people belong 
to you; all that you see is your property; you are lord 
and master of it ! " In his manhood, as the result of 
such teachings, the aflairs of France were not regarded 
as those of Louis XY. He was accustomed to say — 
" Let us amuse ourselves, even if the deluge comes 
afterward ! " How different were the views of his 
father, the noble Duke of Burgundy, who intended, in 
case he ascended the throne, to restore to the people 
their lost rights. It was he who, shortly before his 
death, while contemplating Paris from a high tower, 
cried out — " What delight a king must experience in 
making so many people hajDpy ! " Always coniined to 
his study, he there contracted the malady which short- 
ened his days. He would take no care of himself, and 
obstinately refused the aid of medicine. One day Dr. 
Senac entered, on the part of the king, and attempted 
to fijive him some advice. " I shall be delighted to see 



JOSEPHINE AT FONTAIlTBLEAtT. 79 

you," said the prince, " if joii talk to me of science and 
literature; but if you say a word about health, I shall 
prohibit your entering my apartment." Senac then 
turned toward a tapestry which represented Alexan- 
der the Great, and began to enumerate all the dangers 
of a disease from neglected lungs. " Doctor," replied 
the dauphin, " have I not forbidden you to speak of 
these things ? " "I was not addressing you," said 
Senac, " but Alexander, who deigns to listen to me." 
The prince smiled, but forgot the advice, and died at 
the fall of the leaves. 

Fontainbleau, which had witnessed so many varying 
scenes, became the theater of the greatest errors and 
most bitter disasters of Napoleon's imperial reign. It 
was there that Pius YII. found supreme honors, when 
he came to crown the great conqueror ; and it was 
there that the generous pontiif was, after an interval of 
nine years, imprisoned by the haughty Emperor. In 
this interval, J^apoleon had brought Europe to his feet, 
distributed crowns to his family, and realized, in 
France, all the grandeur of the age of Augustus, of 
Leo X., and of Louis XIY. It was there that Jose- 
phine, while her happiness lasted, shared it with the 
whole world. But her husband soon grew cold toward 
her, and she foresaw the dissolution of their union. 
The first word which announced this fatal divorce was 
pronounced at Fontainbleau, in the Emperor's cabinet. 
How many tears flowed from this moment until the 
day of the separation ! Josephine had loved ITapoleon, 
and been beloved passionately by him in his youth, 
^he had shared his humble fortune; by her connec- 
tions in Paris, and especially by her skillful conduct 



80 BESTOEATlON OF THE BOtJKBONS. 

during his Egyptian expedition, she had most materi- 
ally assisted him in the attainment of the sovereign 
dignity ; she had subsequently adorned his court, and 
gratified his pride by the elegance of her manners, and 
won to herself the attachment of his people, by her 
sincere good nature and active benevolence. Her 
power over her husband was known to be great, and 
no one ever doubted but that it had uniformly been 
exerted on the side of mercy. She was considered as 
the good angel who, more frequently and effectually 
than any influence besides, interfered to soothe the 
fierce passions, and temper the violent acts of her lord. 
Her devotion to him was perfect : she partook his la- 
bors as far as he would permit her to do so, submitted 
to all his caprices, and, with a dark presentiment that 
his ambition would one day cast her aside, continued 
to center the whole of her existence in the contempla- 
tion of his glory. At last Josephine departed, and the 
good genius of ITapoleon departed with her. France 
was thenceforth suspicious of the man who had dis- 
trusted himself ; and Maria Louisa, the new Empress, 
brought to Fontainbleau, under her Austrian mantle, 
neither the heart of a woman nor the head of a queen. 
Napoleon, nevertheless, did all that he could to avert 
the evil star, and to please the wife destined to give 
him a son. Maria Louisa found in the private garden 
the pines which are still seen there. The Emperor had 
caused them to be planted to remind her of the aspect 
of German forests. These delicate attentions did not 
prevent Maria Louisa from forgetting Austria in 
France, then France in Austria, and at a later period, 
I estowing upon an Austrian colonel the hand which 
had held the imperial scepter! 



NAPOLEON AND THE POPE. 81 

It was at Fontainbleau that ITapoleon had his cele- 
brated interview with the pope which is still a great 
historic mystery. Yet one of the pages about the 
palace professes to have overheard it, and gives the fol- 
lowing account of the conversation : The pope sat 
with downcast eyes, seemingly resigned to hear what 
^Napoleon might say without replying. The Emperor, 
after walking about the room, and watching the pon- 
tiff, now in profile, now in the mirrors about the room, 
said abruptly — "Do not, holy father, assume the air 
of a martyr, offering his sufferings to Heaven. Such is 
not your situation. You are only a voluntary pris- 
oner. Say a single word, you are free ; the road to 
Eome is open, no one shall detain you." Pius YII. 
sighed, raised his right hand, and looked at the golden 
cross which he wore suspended from his neck. " If the 
dignity of your character did not prevent me, I should 
say you were a little ungrateful. You do not seem 
sufficiently to have remembered tlie good offices which 
France has rendered you. The conclave of Yenice, 
which elected you pope, has to me a little the appear- 
ance of having been inspired by my campaign in Italy, 
and by a word which I said about you. I have never 
had time to study theology myself ; but I attach great 
faith to the power of the church. She has a prodigious 
vitality. Holy father, you shall be satisfied with me ! 
We can, if you please, do great things in the future." 
And with an air of the most gentle and naive confi- 
denee : " For example, I do not see why you should be 
reluctant to reside in Paris always. I will even allow 
you the Tuileries, if you desire it. You will already 
flnd there your chamber of Monte Cavallo, which is 



82 KESTOEATION OF THE BOUKBONS. 

prepared for you. I shall not live there much. Do 
you not see clearly, Padre^ that this is the true capital 
of the world ? As for me, I will do all you wish me 
to ; I am the most obedient child in the world. Pro- 
vided war and politics are left to me, you shall manage 
the church as you please. I will be only your soldier. 
This will be truly fine ; we will have councils like Con- 
stantine and Charlemagne ; I will open them and close 
them ; I will afterward place in your hands the true 
keys of the world, and as our Lord has said : ' I am 
come with the sword,' I will only ask your blessing 
upon each success of our arms." The pope remained 
mute and motionless. E'apoleon smiling, bent forward 
and awaited a reply. The old man at last slowly 
raised himself and sighed, as if speaking to his 
invisible angel: — Gomiinediante! " (Comedian !) 

The Emperor bounded like a wounded leopard, bit 
his lip till it bled, jingled his spurs, and made the floor 
shake and the curtains tremble. " I a comedian ! " 
exclaimed he suddenly. " Oh ! I will give you come- 
dies which shall make you all weep like women and 
cliildren. Comedian ! You are mistaken if you think 
this insolent coolness will affect me ! My theater is the 
world ; the part which I jDlay in it is that of manager 
and author ; for actors, I have you all, pope, kings, 
people ! "^ and the thread by which I move you, is 
fear ! Comedian ! Ah ! it will take a man of another 
stamp than yourself to dare to apjDlaud or to hiss me. 
Signor Chiaramonti! do you know that you would be 

* IS'apoleon was accustomed to use such proud language. " Corae to 
Erfurth, (said he on one occasion to Talma, the actor,) and you shall 
play before a whole pitfall of kings I " 



COMEDIAN TEAGEDIAN. 83 

n\y a poor curate if I willed, jou and^ your tiara ? 
France would laugh in your face, if I should not pre- 
serve my serious air in saluting you. Only four years 
since, no one dared speak the name of Christ aloud. 
Who then would have spoken of the pope, if you 
please ? Comedian ! It is I who hold you all in my 
fingers ; it is I who move you from South to JS^orth, 
like puppets ; it is I who pretend to rely upon you in 
some things, because you represent an old idea which 
I wish to resuscitate ; and you have not wit enough to 
perceive this and to act as if you did not perceive it. 
I must speak plainly ! You must look closely at things 
before you can comprehend them. And you really 
think we need you, and lift up your head, and clothe 
yourself in your woman's robes ? But learn that they 
do not impose upon me, and that if you go on, I will 
treat yours as Charles YII. did that of the Grand 
Vizier, I will rend it to pieces with a blow from my 
spurs ! " Pius YII. was as calm as before ; the same 
smile of resignation dwelt on his lips. He raised his 
eyes a second time and said as before, with a sigh : — 
'-'- Tragedienne! " ( Tragedian ! ) 

This was too much. Kapoleon, who was standing 
at the extremity of the chamber, darted like an arrow, 
rushed upon the pontiff as if he would have killed 
him, but stopped at the table, took from it a vase of 
Sevres, and crushed it to fragments beneath his heel. 
He threw himself violently into a chair, and after re- 
flecting in gloomy silence, said — "It is true, this is a 
wretched life ! It is true, tragedian or comedian ! all 
is acting, all is costume for me, has been and will be 
forever. What weariness ! What littleness ! To 



84 



KESTOBATION OF THE BOURBONS. 



practice postures ! always to practice postures ! The 
face to this party, the profile to that, according to their 
ideas. To appear to them to be what they choose to 
have you, and to divine justly their imbecile dreams. 
To place them all between hope and fear ; to dazzle 
them by dates and bulletins, by prestiges of distance 
and prestiges of name ; to be the master of all, and 
not know what to do with them. Faith, this is all! 
And after this all, to sufier from ennui as I do ; it is 
too much. For, in fact, (pursued he, crossing his legs 
and throwing himself back in his chair,) I am enor- 
mously wearied. As soon as I sit down I am ready to 
burst with ennui. I could not hunt three days at Fon- 
tainbleau without being tired to death. I must go 
where I must go ; if I know where, may I be hanged. 
I speak to you frankly. I have plans for the lives of 
forty emperors ; I make one every morning and one 
every night ; I have an indefatigable imagination, but 
before I had time to carry two of them into execution, 
I should be worn out body and soul ; for our poor 
lamp does not burn long. And, candidly, if all my 
plans should be executed, I would not swear that tlie 
world would find itself much happier, but it would 
be more beautiful, and a majestic unity would reign 
over it. I am not a philosopher myself, and I know 
no one but our secretary of Florence that has common 
sense. I understand nothing of certain theories. Life 
is too short for rest. As soon as I have planned, I 
execute. Enough explanations of my acts will be found 
after me to exalt me if I succeed, an4 humble me if I 
fall. Paradoxes are here already ; they abound in 
Prance. I keejp them (^[uiet while I live, but after m^ 



SHAXIKG liANDo. 



85 



thej will appear. No matter — my business is to sue 
ceed. I make my Iliad in action, every day. What 
would you have ? — one must live ; we must find our 
place and dig our hole. I have made mine like a bullet. 
So much the worse for those who were before me I 
Every one eats according to his appetite. For myself, 
I was very hungry ! When I have worn for an hour 
my imperial costume, I have had enough of it. I re- 
sume my uniform, and mount my horse. Always on 
horseback ! all my life on horseback ! There are in the 
world but two classes of men : those who possess, and 
those who are reaching forward. The first may lie 
down, the second are moving. As I understood that 
early, I have gone far ; that is all. There are work- 
men on buildings, in colors, in forms, and in phrases ; 
I am an architect of battles. This is my profession. I 
have already manufactured fifty, which are called vic- 
tories. I must be paid for my work ; and the pay of 
the empire is not too dear. Besides, I shall continue 
to labor. You will see many others. You will see all 
dynasties date from mine, parvenu as I am — like 
yourself, holy father, elected, and taken from the 
crowd. On this point, we can shake hands." And he 
hastily presented his hand to Pius YIL, who, touched 
by this frank confession, and seeing him at last throw 
off the double mask which he had wrested from him 
by two words, extended in turn his trembling hand, 
and, letting fall a tear on his thin cheek, yielded his 
temporal power. 

On the 23d of January, 1814, the pope left Fontain- 
bleau, blessing the crowd assembled in the court of Le 
Cheval Blanc ; and on the 13th of March following 



86 RESTORATION OF THE BOUKBONS. 

JS'apoleon learned in tlie same court the entrance into 
Paris of the kings whom he had driven from their 
capitals. This downfall of the terrible Emperor was 
greater than his elevations. His defense of the French 
territory against foreign invasion surpassed the glory 
of his finest conquests ; and he never appeared so sub- 
lime as on the night in which he re-entered Fontain- 
bleau exhausted, repeating, " All is lost except honor." 
The enemies of Bonaparte had triumphed. He 
could no longer carry on the war against them. • After 
great reluctance and a long debate among his mar- 
shals, he seated himself at a table and traced with a 
firm hand the following lines : 

" The allied powers having proclaimed that the Em- 
peror ]^[apoleon is the sole obstacle to the re-establish- 
ment of peace in Europe, he, faithful to his oath, de- 
clares that he is ready to descend from the throne, to 
quit France, and even to relinquish life, for the good 
of his country, which is inseparable from the rights of 
his son, from those of the regency in the person of the 
empress, and from the maintenance of the laws of the 
empire. Done at our palace of Fontainbleau, April 
the 4th, 1814. J^apoleon." 

These lines, dignified in expression and replete with 
ileep feeling, were worthy of the solemn occasion. The 
treaty of Fontainbleau, in which, having abandoned 
all hope, he renounced for himself and his heirs the 
throne of France and of Italy, was concluded on the 
11th of April. But little remained except to bid 
adieu to his companions in arms. On the 20th of 
April the relics of his imperial guard were drawn up 
in the court-yard of the castle. He advanced toward 
them on horseback; and tears dropped from his eyes 



NAPOLEON AND THE IMPEEIAL GTJAED. 87 

as he dismounted in their midst. " All Europe," said 
!N apoleon, " has armed against me. France herself 
has deserted me, and chosen another dynasty. I 
might, with my soldiers, have maintained a civil war 
for years — but it would have rendered France un- 
happy. Be faithful to the new sovereign whom your 
country has chosen. Do not lament my fate : I shall 
always be happy while I know that you are so. I 
could have died — nothing was easier — but I will 
always follow the path of honor. I will record with 
my pen the deeds we have done together. I cannot 
embrace you all," he continued, taking the command- 
ing officer in his arms, "but I embrace your general. 
Bring hither the eagle. Beloved eagle ! may the 
kisses I bestow on you long resound in the hearts of 
the brave ! Farewell, my children — farewell my 
brave companions — surround me once more — fare- 
well ! " Amid the silent but profound grief of these 
brave men, submitting like himself to the irresistible 
force of events, Napoleon placed himself in his 
carriage, and drove rapidly from Fontainbleau. 

It is most painful to contemplate these scenes. 
What agonies must have passed through the heart of 
such a man, so humbled ! What inevitable contrasts 
of the throne with the dungeon ! What sense of 
shame in the humiliation which thus placed him at 
the disposal of his own few followers ! What sleepless 
anxiety in those midnight consultations, in those ex- 
posures to public shame, in this sense of utter ruin, in 
this terrible despair ! If some great painter shall 
hereafter arise to vindicate the pencil by showing its 
power of delineating the deepest passions of our nature, 



88 EE8T0EATI0N OF THE BOUKBONS. 

or srnne still greater poet shall come to revive the 
day of Shakspeare, and exhibit the tortures of a 
greater Macbeth, fallen from the highest elevation of 
hmnan things into a depth of self-reproach and self- 
abasement to which all the powers of human language 
might be weak — what a subject for them were here ! 

The apartments at Fontainbleau are full of the giant 
shadow of the Emperor : it was there that he labored 
in the days of his glory — it was there that he fell in 
his greatness. The round table at which he wrote his 
abdication is still there. It bears, at present, on a 
plate of copper, this historical inscription, engraven 
by order of Louis XYIIL: — " On the Uh of Aprils 
1814, Na^poleon Boiiaparte signed his abdication on 
this tdble^ in the King^s Cabinet ! the second from 
the sleeping-chamber at Fontainbleau^ We may 
easily recognize in this the prince who always spoke 
of the Emperor ]!^apoleon as Monsieur de Bonaparte.^ 

The capacities of IN^apoleon as a civil ruler were 
scarcely inferior to his talents as a generah We find 
ample evidence of the success with which he applied 
the native vigor of his understanding to the science of 
government, in his dispatches to the ministers of state, 
in his recorded conversations with his friends, in his 
speeches and observations to his council, and in the 
admirable measures he adopted or suggested for the 

* Lonis XVIII.'s dislike to Napoleon is well knowu. The late J. Fen- 
imore Cooper, writing! from Paris, in 1826, mentions the following cir- 
cumstance in regard to it : " My girls have shown me an abridgment of 
the history of France, that has been officially prepared for the ordinary 
schools, in which there is no sort of allusion to him (Bonaparte.) The 
wags here, say that a work has been especially prepared for the hei? 
presumptive, however, in which the Emperor is a little better treated ; 
being spoken of as "a certain Marquis de Bonaparte who commanded 
|he armies of tlie king !" 



^9 

reorganization of France from 1800 to 1804. It is im- 
possible to read the account of these without doing 
involuntary homage to the strong, clear sense, the 
instinctive wisdom, which, amid all the fatal errors 
which ambition led him to commit, marked every 
observation which fell from this wonderful man. lN"or 
does history alone contain the proofs of Napoleon's ex- 
traordinary administrative capacity. All Erance and 
Italy abound with the undertakings of public utility 
which he set on foot and carried through. It appears 
that during the twelve years of his government he ex- 
pended no less than $200,000,000 on the public works 
in the various countries under his rule ; ($140,000,000 
in France alone ;) and of these, $110,000,000 were for 
roads, bridges, harbors, and canals, which will remain 
eternal monuments of his genius and - power, and per- 
petual blessings and sources of civilization to all 
Europe, long after the hand of time and industry shall 
have obliterated the last lingering traces of his desolat- 
ing wars, and when the memory of his crimes and his 
glory shall have faded into the dim remoteness of the 
past. The Antwerp harbor, the Alpine roads, and the 
Code ISTapoleon, will long survive the effects of the 
mischiefs which he caused and the sufferings which he 
inflicted. 

The reverse of this interesting picture is presented 
when we turn from his intellectual endowments to con- 
template his moral qualities. Yet even here there was 
much that was attractive. He was a man of fasci- 
nating manners, of occasional impulses of generous 
emotion, and of warm and kind, though limited affec- 
tions, He appears to have been sincerely attached t^ 



90 KESTOEATION OF THE BOUEBONS. 

his wife and child, and to a few of his early conapan 
ions in arms. But the prominent feature of his char 
acter was a hard, cold, unrelenting selfishness. What- 
ever interfered, or seemed likely to interfere, with his 
own fame, his own aggrandizement, his own ambition, 
was trampled under foot with the most ruthless 
resolution. His frequent and contemptible disregard of 
truth ; his entire disregard of the lives of his soldiers, 
or the exhaustion of his country, or his own deliberate 
promises or solemn treaties, or, in short, of any con- 
sideration whatever, when in pursuit of the object he 
had determined to obtain; enable us to look without 
regret upon the retributive fate which finally overtook 
him. The insatiable and unresting ambition of TTa- 
poleon admits of no excuse. His encroachments were 
even more daring and intolerable in time of peace 
than during war. He pursued them from passion, and 
justified them on principle. It would appear that 
Providence had sent him upon earth, to show to the 
worshipers of grandeur and of genius, how com- 
pletely all that is most magnificent in intellectual en- 
dowments may be divorced from moral excellence and 
the generous afi'ections ; and when so divorced, how 
incalculably sad and terrible are its consequences to 
mankind. It seems almost certain that if I^apoleon, at 
the height of his power, had sheathed the sword, and 
devoted his talents and actions to internal improve- 
ments, and to the reparation of the ravages which his 
wars had made in the wealth, the finances, the com- 
merce, the population, and the agriculture of France, 
he might have maintained the extended boundaries 
of his empire and have continued to reign over it. 



CHAKACTEE OF WAR. 91 

From the commencement to the close of E'apoleon's 
career, the levies of soldiers in France exceeded four 
millions, and not less than three millions of these per- 
ished in the field, the hospital or the bivouac. If to 
these we add at least an equal number out of the ranks 
of their antagonists, it is clear that not less than six 
millions of human beings perished in warfare in the 
course of twenty years, in the very heart of civilized 
Europe, at the commencement of the nineteenth cen- 
tury of the Chistian era. But even these stupendous 
numbers give us no adequate conception of the de- 
struction of human life directly consequent on the wars 
of the Revolution and the Empire. We must add the 
thousands who perished from want, outrage, and ex- 
posure, and the hundreds of thousands who were subse- 
quently swept away by the ravages of that pestilence 
which took its rise amid the retreat from Kussia, and 
the crowded garrisons of the campaign of 1813, and 
for several years afterward desolated in succession 
every country in Europe. 

And even when we have summed up and laid before 
us, in all the magnitude of figures, the appalling 
destruction of life here exhibited, we can still gather 
only a faint and remote conception of the sufferings 
and evils inflicted by this awful scourge. Death in 
the field is among the smallest of the miseries of war : 
the burned villages — the devastated harvests — the 
ruined commerce — the towns carried by assault — the 
feeble and the lovely massacred and outraged — grief, 
despair and desolation carried into innumerable fami- 
lies, — these are among the more terrific visitations of 
military conflicts, and the blackest of the crimes for 



92 EESTORATION OF THE B0UKB0N8. 

whicn a fearful retribution will one day be exacted at 
the hands of those who have provoked, originated, or 
compelled them. 

If any thing could awaken the statesmen of our age 
to a just estimate of war and the warrior, surely their 
deeds and the consequences of these deeds should do 
so, when exhibited on a scale of such tremendous mag- 
nitude. Yet, so far, the impression made seems to have 
been both feeble and imperfect. Our views with re- 
gard to war are still in singular discordance both with 
our reason and our religion. They appear to be rather 
the result of a brute instinct, than of obedience to the 
dictates of a sound sense or of a pure faith. On all 
other points, Christianity is the acknowledged founda- 
tion of our theory of morals, how^ever widely we may 
swerve from it in practice ; but in the case of war we 
do not pretend to keep up even the shadow of alle- 
giance to the authority of our nominal lawgiver. " A 
state of war, (says Robert Hall,) is nothing less than a 
temporary repeal of all the principles of virtue. The 
morality of peaceful times is directly opposite to the 
maxims of war. The fundamental rule of the first is 
to do good ; of the latter to inflict injuries. The 
former commands us to succor the oppressed; the latter 
to overwhelm the defenseless. The rules of morality 
will not suffer us to promote the dearest interests by 
falsehood ; the maxims of war applaud it when 
employed for the destruction of others." 

How happens it that our notions on the subject of 
war are so widely different from what we have a right 
to suppose they would be among a Christian people ! 
from what tH§Y would be, if Christianity had had 



THE PASSION FOR WAR. 93 

any share in their formation? We think the singu- 
lar discrepancy may be traced to two sources. In the 
first place, the whole tone of feeling among educated 
minds — and through them among other classes — has 
become thoroughly perverted and demoralized by the 
turn which is given to their early studies. The first 
books to which the attention of our youth is sedulously 
and exclusively directed, are those of the ancient au- 
thors ; the first poet they are taught to relish and ad- 
mire is Homer ; the first histories put into their hands, 
(and with which through life they are commonly more 
conversant than with any other,) are those of Greece 
and Rome ; the first biographies with which they be- 
come familiar are those of the heroes and warriors of 
the wild times of old. [N'ow, in those days the staple 
occupation of life — at once its business and its pas- 
time '— was war. War was almost the sole profession of 
the rich and great, and became, in consequence, almost 
the sole theme of poets and historians. It is, therefore, 
the subject most constantly presented, and presented in 
the most glowing colors, to the mind of the young stu- 
dent, at the precise period when his mind is most sus- 
ceptible and most tenacious of new impressions ; the 
exciting scenes of warfare fill him with deeper interest 
than any other, and the intellectual and moral quali- 
ties of the warrior — quick foresight, rapid combina- 
tion, iron resolve, stern severity, impetuous courage — 
become the objects of his warmest admiration ; he for- 
gets the peaceful virtues of charity and forbearance, or 
learns to despise them ; he sees not the obscurer but 
the loftier merits of the philanthropist and the man of 
pcience ; be comes to look upon war as tb§ Tioblest of 



94 RESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS. 

professions, and upon the warrior as the proudest of 
human characters ; and the impression thus ear] j made 
withstands all the subsequent efforts of reflection and 
religion to dislodge it. It is difficult to overestimate 
the mischief wrought by this early misdirection of our 
studies ; and that the impression produced is such as 
we have represented it, every one will acknowledge on 
a consideration of his own feelings. 

The other source of our erroneous sentiments with 
regard to war, may be found in the faulty and mis- 
chievous mode in which history has been generally 
written. In the first place, little except war has been 
touched upon ; and the notion has been thus left upon 
the mind, either that nations were occupied in war 
alone, or that nothing else was worth recording. Those 
silent but steady labors which have gradually advanced 
the wealth of a country, and laid the foundation of its 
prosperity and power ; those toilsome investigations 
which have pushed forward the boundaries of human 
knowledge, and illustrated throughout all time the age 
and the land which gave them birth ; that persevering 
ingenuity and unbaffled skill which have made science 
the handmaid of art, and wrought out of her discov- 
eries the materials of civilization and national pre-emi- 
nence ; and, greater than all, that profound and patient 
thought which has eliminated the great principles of 
Rocial and political well-being ; — concerning all these, 
history has been almost silent ; and the whole attention, 
both of the teacher and the student, has been concentra- 
ted upon "the loud transactions of the outlying world," 
while the real progress of nations, and the great and 



DESOLATION OF WAR. 95 

good men who have contributed thereunto, have alike 
been consigned to oblivion. 

Again, — historians have seldom given a full and fair 
analysis of what war is. They have described the 
marches, the sieges, the able maneuvers, the ingenious 
stratagems, the gallant enterprises, the desperate con 
flicts, the masterly combinations, the acts of heroic 
daring, with which war abounds ; and they have sum- 
med up those descriptions of battles which we read 
with breathless interest, by informing us that the vic- 
tory was gained with a loss of so many thousands killed 
and wounded — so many thousands made prisoners — 
and so many standards and pieces of artillery taken 
from the enemy. But all this is only the outside color- 
ing of war, and goes little way toward making us ac- 
quainted with its real character. Historians rarely tell 
us of the privations suffered — the diseases engendered — 
the tortures undergone during a campaign ; still less 
of the vices ripened, the selfishness confirmed, the 
hearts hardened, by this " temporary repeal of all the 
principles of virtue." They do not speak of the ties 
broken — of the peasants ruined — of the hearths made 
desolate — of grief never to be comforted — of shame 
never to be wiped away — of the burden of abiding 
affliction brought upon many a happy household — of 
all the nameless atrocities, one of which in peaceful 
times would make our blood run cold, but which in 
war are committed daily, by thousands, with impunity. 

When a statesman declares war in consequence of 
any of the ordinary'- motives thereto — for the sake of a 
rich colony which he is desirous to obtain ; to prevent 



96 RESTORATION OF THE BOUEBONS. 

an ambitious neighbor irom acquiring what might 
render him a formidable rival ; to restore a monarch 
dethroned bj a people wearied of his manifold oppres- 
sions ; to resent a private wrong, or avenge a diplo- 
matic insult — his thoughts on the matter seldom travel 
beyond the issuing of a manifesto, the appointment of 
a general, the levying of troops, and the imposition 
of taxes for the maintenance of the contest. He is. 
therefore, wholly unconscious what in reality lie is 
doing / — and if a sage were to go to him, as [N'athan 
went to David, and say — "Sir, you have given orders 
for the commission of murder on a monstrous scale ; 
you have directed that 50,000 of your subjects shall 
send as many of their fellow men, wholly unprepared 
for so awful a change, into a presence where they must 
answer for their manifold misdeeds ; you have com- 
manded that 30,000 more shall pass the best years of 
their life in hopeless imprisonment — shall in fact be 
punished as the worst of criminals, when they have 
committed no crime but by your orders ; — you have 
arranged so that 20,000 more shall lie for days on the 
bare ground, horribly mutilated, and slowly bleeding 
to death, and at length only be succored in order to 
undergo the most painful operations, and then perish 
miserably in a hospital ; you have given orders that 
numbers of innocent and lovely w^omen — as beautiful 
and delicate as your own daughters — shall undergo 
the last indignities from the license of a brutal sol 
diery ; you have issued a fiat which, if not recalled, 
will carry mourning into many families, will cut ofi" at 
a stroke the delight of many eyes, will inflict upon 
jiJioTisands, now virtuous and contented, misery which 



97 

can know no cure, and desolation which in this world 
can find no alleviation ; " — if such a message as this 
were conveyed to him — every word of which would 
he strictly true — would he not disown the ghastly 
image thus held up to him, and exclaim, " Is thy ser- 
vant a dog, that he should do this thing?" And if 
statesmen could realize all this before they put their 
hand to the declaration of hostilities, would they not 
rather thrust it into the flames ? 

With this digression — if remarks can be so called 
which 60 inevitably grow out of the subject we have 
been considering — we close this hasty notice of the 
career of Bonaparte. The period over which it ex- 
tends is, beyond all others, the most thronged with 
great events — great in themselves, marvelous in the 
rapidity with which they succeeded each other, and 
momentous and far-reaching in their consequences. 
In it the most glorious prospects that ever dawned 
upon civilized humanity, were quenched in the darkest 
cloud that ever closed over its destinies. We see the 
overthrow of an ancient tyranny, intolerable from its 
intense selfishness, more intolerable still from its very 
dotage and decrepitude — and the birth, out of its 
ashes, of a wild and shapeless liberty, at once violent 
and feeble, stained with the ineradicable vice and 
weakness of its origin, mischievous and transient. 
We see the most prolonged and devastating wars ever 
waged upon the earth, ended by a fearful and fitting 
retribution ; and the most magnificent genius of mod- 
ern times, within the short space of twenty-five years, 
a famished ensign in an unpaid army, monarch of the 
most powerful empire which has existed since the days 



^S RESTORATION 0^ THE BOtJKBONS. 

of Trajan, and, finally, a forsaken and solitary captive 
on a barren rock in the remotest pathways of the 
ocean. In a period thickly strewn with such vicissi- 
tudes, there is much food for wholesome contempla- 
tion ; and if the nations and the rulers of our times 
would study its lessons with the solicitous humility 
which their magnitude and their solemnity demand, 
the earth would become rich in that wisdom which 
grows out of the grave of folly — strong in that virtue 
which springs out of the recoil from sin. 

Upward of twenty years of exile had passed over 
the heads of the expatriated Bourbons, when the reac- 
tion consequent upon the devouring ambition of !N"a- 
poleon, drove him from the throne and replaced them 
in the vacant chair. 

The following personages composed the royal family; 
The King, Louis XYIIL ; his brother, the Count d' Ar- 
tois, (afterward Charles X.) ; the two sons of the latter, 
the Duke d' Angouleme and the Duke de Berry; and 
the Duke d' Orleans, (afterward Louis Philippe I.) 
The princesses were the Duchess d' Angouleme, 
(daughter of Louis XYL); the Duchess d' Orleans, 
mother of Louis Philippe ; the Duchess d' Orleans, 
wife of Louis Philippe ; and his sister Adelaide. 

Louis XVIII. was born E'ovember 15, 1T55, and 
was bordering on his sixtieth year at the time of the 
restoration. He was brother to Louis XYL He man- 
aged his escape from France, at the period of the Rev- 
olution, with much adroitness. His only confidants 
were his mistress and Count d' Avaray, who made pre- 
parations for his flight. He mixed with the people, 
afiected a free and unembarrassed air, and returned 



ESCAPE OF LOriS XVIII. 99 

late to his palace. He then retired to his own bed- 
chamber, was undressed by his valet-de-chambre, who 
slept in the same room, and whom he distrusted. He 
went to bed, closed the curtains one side, got out at the 
other without noise, slipped into a cabinet which com- 
municated with a lobby of the palace, passed from 
thence to a lodge, where Count d' Avaray was waiting 
for him with a disguise ; painted his eyebrows, as- 
sumed false hair over his own, and placed on his round 
hat a large tri-colored cockade. He then descended 
into the court of the palace, where a hackney-coach 
was waiting for him. On the quay he found a travel- 
ing carnage wdth post-horses, got into it with his friend, 
and with English names and passj^orts, passed the bar- 
riers without suspicion. On arriving at Maubeuge, the 
last town in France on the Belgian frontier, he bribed 
the postillion to pass round the town, and tearing the 
tri-colored cockade off his hat, he abandoned himself 
to joy on throwing away, at last, tliis sign of his op- 
pression and of his terror. When they reached Mons, 
he pressed his deliverer. Count d' Avaray, in his arms, 
and threw himself on his knees to thank heaven for his 
safety. Then mingling his scenic and literary souve- 
nirs with his self-congratulations on his escape, with 
characteristic frivolity, he parodied some verses of an 
opera, and applied their tragic meaning to the most 
burlesque accidents of his disguise and journey. Alas ! 
while he was thus reveling in the isolated joys of his 
own safety, his wife, of whose fate he was ignorant, was 
running the same dangers by another route ; and the 
king, the queen, their children, and his sister, over- 
taken on the ruad at Yarennes, were going to pay, 



100 EE8T0RATI0N OF THE BOURBONS. 

with their liberty and their lives, for this day which 
gave to him alone security on a foreign soil. , 

During the overwhelming success of I^apoleon, he 
was driven from court to court on the continent, the 
kings who befriended him being successively compelled 
to expel him from their dominions. He finally, (1807,) 
sought an asylum in England, where he remained until 
the overthrow of E'apoleon. 

When Louis XYI. and his queen Marie Antoinette, 
were beheaded, their two children, a son and daughter, 
were retained prisoners, and confined in loathsome 
dungeons. The lad, (who was called by the royalists, 
Louis XYII.,) met with a melancholy death. Blows, 
scanty food, the damps and filth of a dungeon, were 
inflicted on him. He was even compelled to drink in- 
toxicating liquors. He had been taught obscene songs, 
and his innocent hand had even been forced to sign an 
incestuous deposition against his own mother, the im- 
pious meaning of which he did not comprehend. "This 
poor child, (said his sister, who was liberated,) lay wal- 
lowing in his infected dungeon, amidst filth and rags. 
It was swept out only once a month. His sense of 
feeling was obliterated ; he lived like an unclean rep- 
tile in a common sewer." " It is well known, (said 
Harmand, a representative in the IlsTational Assembly, 
who visited him,) that Simon, his jailer, played cruel 
tricks with the sleep of his prisoner. Without any re- 
gard for an age when sleep is so imperative a want, he 
repeatedly called him up in the course of the night. 
' Here I am, citizen,' would the poor child reply, shiver- 
ing with cold. ' Come here, and let me touch you,' 
Simon would exclaim ; then striking or kicking him, 



Loms XYtit. 101 

Would cf j out, ' get to bed, you young wolf.' " From 
the time when he understood the nature of the crimes 
he had been made to charge his mother with, he main- 
tained uniform silence, and died, June 9, 1795, without 
uttering a word. Upon his death, his uncle assumed 
the title of Louis XYIIL, although he was, for nearly 
twenty years afterward, an exile from France. 

The throne of France was finally bestowed upon 
him, in 1814:, by the allied powers, and not by the 
choice of the French people. There was, consequently, 
from the beginning, a feeling of distrust between him 
and the nation. His measures were illy calculated to 
conciliate the good w^ill of the people. He seemed re- 
solved to make use of the victory which the allies had 
won for him, to restore the most odious features of the 
monarchy which the nation had violently discarded a 
quarter of a century previous. 

The nation wished, 1st. to have its political liberties 
secured, and the right of being represented by depu- 
ties, chosen by the people ; 2d. that the personal free- 
dom of individuals should be secured from prosecu- 
tions for imaginary crimes, contrary to legal forms ; 
3d. the equality of citizens in the eye of the law, and 
the right of all to obtain any civil or military dignity, 
by merit and talents ; 4th. the abolition of feudal ser- 
vice ; 5th. the right, in criminal accusations, to be 
judged by a jury ; 6th. the independence of the judi- 
ciary from every other power in the state; 7th. the 
right of levying taxes by their representatives, and all 
classes in proportion to their property ; 8th. the right 
of every individual to exercise any means of gaining a 
living which did not interfere with the rights of other 



102 EESTOiiATtON O^ THE BOUBBONS. 

citizens.; 9tli. the freedom of speech and of tne press, 
or the right of every one to communicate his thoughts 
to his fellow citizens, in public meetings or through the 
press; and 10th. the right of every one to perform di- 
vine worship in his own way, without molestation. 

So entirely was the spirit of Louis XYIII.'s govern- 
ment at variance with that of the nation, that many 
individuals, who had at first welcomed the return of 
the royal family, became convinced that the Bourbons 
and France were no longer fit for each other. Al- 
though Louis XYIIL possessed much natural sagacity, 
he had, during his long exile, become enfeebled by age 
and disease ; he did not understand the change which 
had been wrought in the character of the people of 
France. It was said to him, with equal justice and 
severity, that during his exile "he had forgotten noth- 
ing and learned nothing." He carried on against the 
constitution he had granted the people, a series of petty 
thefts and 23altry invasions, and left to his successor a 
government whose origin was odious and whose ad- 
ministration was regarded with hatred. Innocent in- 
dividuals, charged with political crimes, were often 
kept in close confinement for years, before being set 
at liberty. In the prisons, condemned criminals were 
confined with those who were merely confined for 
trial — the worst of criminals were mingled with men 
detained only for political oficnses. It w^as also a 
source of discontent, which existed until the final ban- 
ishment of the Bourbons, that the nation was not per- 
mitted to choose a single magistrate. All officers were 
appointed by the government, and the councils of the 
departments into which the kingdom was divided, 



CLAIMANTS FOR THE CROWN. lU3 

professedly declared the wishes of the people, al- 
though wholly unauthorized, so that their voices were 
often opposed to the opinion of the majority in the 
departments. The national guard was not permitted 
to elect its own officers, and was a mere instrument 
in the hands of the king. 

Until the death of Louis XYIII., the government was 
almost constantly engaged in the suppression of local 
insurrection caused by the disaffection of the people. 
Probably the existence of Napoleon, on a rock far 
away in the ocean, saved the throne of Louis XYIII. 
from overthrow. While I^apoleon lived, all other 
pretensions besides his were impossible ; when he 
died, pretenders rushed thick upon the field of con- 
spiracy. There was a party for ]N"apoleon IL, a party 
for Joseph Bonaparte, and another for Prince Eugene. 
The latter was so much in earnest that Lafayette was 
offered the sum of a million of dollars, to cover the 
first cost of. a Revolution in favor of the brother of 
Queen Hortense. This Lafayette neither declined noi 
accepted, but he was supposed to favor the preteiisions 
of Joseph Bonaparte. Louis XYIII. never felt him- 
self secure on the throne, and was more than once on 
the point of flying from the country. He died Sep- 
tember 16, 1824. " Had he lived a little longer," said 
the late J. Fenimore Cooper, in a letter from Paris, 
written in 1825, " he would most probably have been 
dethroned before this ; the hopes and the expectations 
which usually accompany a new reign, having, most 
probably, deferred the crisis for a few years." The 
crisis did come, four years after Mr. Cooper wrote 
the above, and the successor of Louis XYIII. was 



104 EESTORATiON Of THE BOtTRfiOl^S. 

dethroned. The king, although he could not learn 
wisdom from his fears, always retained a lively remem 
brance of the night when, about a year after his first 
restoration, a courier knocked suddenly at the gate of the 
Taileries. His knock was that of a man who brought 
bad news : he was told that the king slept, but his an- 
swer was that he must immediately be awakened ; for 
there had been seen on the road a little man in a small 
hat, dressed in a gray coat, with his hands crossed be- 
hind him, who arrived on foot and alone, with his 
sword in its scabbard, again to take the constitutional 
throne of France from its legitimate kings. Thus said 
the courier, and he would take no reward for the intel- 
ligence ; he chose it should be an act of charity to the 
house of Bourbon. Louis XVIII. was obliged to quit 
the palace, as speedily as if it had been on fire. He 
did not even stop to have the sheets taken from his 
bed, or to secure his prescriptions from his room. On 
the other hand, the Emperor arrived so quickly, that he 
found the room in disorder, the physic scattered, and 
chicken-bones half picked, under the bed. The last 
incident was told by a person who entered the Em- 
peror's bedroom just as he was surveying it. " Look, 
(said he,) as if it were not enough to make a kitchen of 
my bedroom, they have made a dog-kennel of it." 
For this visit to that " dog-kennel" the Emperor Was 
hurled into the abyss of Waterloo. 

It is reported that Louis XV III., while sitting on the 
feuteuil on which he was about to expire, surrounded 
by high personages in tears, and his face overspread 
with the ghastliness of hastening dissolution, called to 
his side the youngest and weakliest prince of his 



CHARLES X. 105 

family, and lajiDg his hand on the child's head, as it 
bent to receive his .blessing, said, "Let my brother 
be careful of the crown of this child." Not long after, 
the princes and several grand officers were assembled 
in another part of the palace, and seemed as though in 
expectancy of some momentous event. Suddenly a 
door of the apartment was thrown open, and a voice 
cried out, — "The King, sirs." It was Charles X. that 
entered, Louis XYIIL had just expired. 

Charles X., the youngest brother of Louis XYL and 
Louis XYIIL, was born October 9, 1757, and was con- 
sequently sixty -seven years of age when he ascended 
the throne. In his youth he had been the idol of his 
family, of the court and of Paris. His handsome per- 
son, his gracefulness, the thoughtlessness of his char- 
acter, even the frivolity of his mind, won him the 
affections of the aristocracy. He affected to look upon 
the coming Revolution as one of those transient 
commotions of the lower oj-ders, which should be sup- 
pressed and not discussed. ^N'one of those ideas which 
then filled the rest of the world had ever entered into 
his head; for those ideas pre-supposed intelligence, and 
he never reflected. Spoiled by the court; flattered by 
a circle of the young aristocracy, as frivolous and 
unreflecting as himself; held forth to the army and 
nobility as the prince who would shortly rally them 
around the standard of absolute monarchy, and who 
was to dissipate, with the point of the sword, all the 
liberal dreams of the nation — this prince was blind to 
the Revolution. The men of the Revolution regarded 
him with contempt or indifference ; they did not fear 
Jiim enough to hate hiin. Yet he was the first fp 



106 RESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS. 

escape from the impending ruin. Among his vices, a 
passion for the fair sex was predominant. Although 
married, he had an amour with the Countess de Polas- 
tron, who abandoned her husband and followed him to 
foreign lands. Consoled and intoxicated bj the charms 
and the tenderness of this accomplished woman, he had 
renounced, in his passion and fidelity for her, all the 
trifling liaisons w^hich his personal beauty had formed 
around him in his youth. He only lived in future for 
Madame Polastron, who was for him the model of liv- 
ing tenderness. A decline, aggravated by the humid 
climate of England, seized on Madame Polastron, and 
she beheld death slowly approaching her, in all the 
freshness of her charms, and all the delights of a mu- 
tual flame. Religion, however, (as many French wo- 
men nnderstand it,) consoled her, and she wished to 
impart its consolation and its immortality to her lover. 
He became a convert, at the voice of that love which 
had so often and so delightfully dissipated his serious 
thoughts. One of his almoners, who has since become 
Cardinal Latil, received, even in the chamber of the 
repentant beauty, the confession and the remorse of the 
two lovers. " Swear to me, (said Madame de Polas- 
tron to the young prince,) that I shall be your last fault 
and your last love upon earth, and that after me you 
will love only the object of whom I cannot be jealous — 
God himself" The prince took the oath with his heart 
and his lips, and Madame Polastron, thus consoled, 
carried with her last embrace his oath to the grave. 
From this day he was an altered man. But that prob- 
ity of heart which he found in love, and that piety 
which he drew^ from death, only changed the nature of 



COEONATION OF CHARLES X. 107 

hk) weaknesses. His new virtues had from that day, 
for him, the effect of his ancient faults. They con- 
tracted his understanding without elevating his cour- 
age. They delivered him over entirely to ecclesiastical 
influences, which piously took advantage of his con- 
science, as others had done of his levities. 

Charles X. was admirably adapted for the task he 
proposed to himself, upon ascending the throne. 'No 
one in a shorter time, by any possible maneuvering, 
could so effectually have ruined his own fortunes and 
those of all who belonged to him. September 27, 1824, 
he made his first public entry into Paris, on horseback, 
and in the month of May following, he was crowned at 
Rheims, where many ancient customs, and some ridic- 
ulous usages, were revived. For instance, the vial con- 
taining the holy oil, (which was said to have been 
brought, in former ages, by a dove from heaven,) was 
again restored. Power was scarcely in his grasp, be- 
fore threats were held out to those who should dare to 
question the royal will, or oppose tlie king's govern- 
ment. Charles X. hoped to establish an absolute 
despotism among the people of France. After more 
than a quarter of a century of bloodshed, revolution, 
anarchy, civil and foreign warfare, this was the result 
of the great lesson. Humanity sighs as it contemplates 
the incapacity of dunces in a school where the dullest 
may find instruction if they will. The people, natur- 
ally enough, refused to be coerced into a love of his 
majesty's government, and his majesty, with character- 
istic obstinacy, declared his resolution " to be unalter- 
able." France had positively to do its y^oy\ over 
agaiij from the beginning ! • 



108 RESTOEATION OF THE BOUEBONS. 

The royal family were extremely unpopular. The 
utmost indifference, if not actual aversion, was mani- 
fested when they appeared in public. The following 
account of their appearance at the races, near Paris, in 
1826, is from the pen of an eye-witness, and gives a 
graphic illustration of the public opinion. " During 
the heats, accompanied by a young American friend, I 
had strolled among the royal equipages, in order to 
examine their magnificence, and returning toward the 
course, we came out unexpectedly at a little open 
space, immediately at one end of the pavilion, in 
which the royal family was seated. There were not a 
dozen people near us, and one of these was a sturdy 
Englishman, evidently a tradesman, who betrayed a 
keen and a truly national desire to get a look at the 
king. The head of a little girl was just visible above 
the side of the pavilion, and my companion, who, by a 
singular accident, not long before, had been thrown into 
company with les enfans de France,^ (as the royal 
children are called,) informed me that it was Mademoi- 
selle d' Artois, the sister of the heir presumptive. He 
had given me a favorable account of the children, 
whom he represented as both lively and intelligent, and 
I changed my position a little, to get a better look of 
the face of this little personage, who was not twenty 
feet from the spot where we stood. My movement at- 
tracted her attention, and, after looking down a moment 
into the small area in which we were inclosed, she 
disappeared. Presently a lady looked over the balus- 
trade, and our Englishman seemed to be on tenter- 
lipoks. Some thirty or forty French gathered round us 
* CMldrfn of F^-^ap©^ 



UNPOPULAEITY OF THE EOYAL FA:,I !]/.'. 109 

immediately, and I presume it was thonglit noiio but 
loyal subjects could manifest so much desire to gaze 
at the family, especially as one or two of the French 
clapped the little princess, whose head now appeared 
and di'sappeared again, as if she were earnestly press- 
ing something on the attention of those within the 
pavilion. In a moment, the form of a pale and sickly- 
looking boy was seen, the little girl, who was a year or 
two older, keeping her place at his side. The boy was 
raised on the knee of a melancholy-looking and rather 
hard-featured female of fifty, who removed his straw 
hat, in order to salute us. 'There are the Dauphine''^ 
and the Due de Bordeaux,' whispered my companion, 
who knew the person of the former by sight. The 
Dauphine looked anxiously, and I thought mournfully, 
at the little cluster we formed directly before her, as if 
waiting to observe in what manner her nephew would 
be received. Of course my friend and myself, who were 
in the foreground, stood uncovered ; as gentlemen we 
could not do less, nor as foreign gentlemen could we 
very well do more. Not a Frenchman, however, even 
touched his hat! On the other hand, the Englishman 
straddled his legs, gave a wide sweep with his beaver, 
and uttered as hearty a hurrah as if he had been cheer- 
ing a member of Parliament who gave gin in his beer. 
The effect of this single, unaccompanied, unanswered 
cheer, was both ludicrous and painful. The poor fel- 
low himself seemed startled at hearing his own voice 
amid so profound a stillness, and checking his zeal as 
unexpectedly as he had commenced its exhibition, he 
looked furiously around him, and walked surlily away. 

* Wife of the heir apparent 



J iO RESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS. 

Tho Dauphine followed him with her eyes. There 
was no mistaking his gaitered limbs, dogged mien, and 
florid countenance ; he clearly was not French, and 
those that were, as clearly turned his enthusiasm into 
ridicule. 1 felt sorry for her, as with a saddened face, 
she set down the boy, and withdrew her own head 
within the covering of the pavilion. The little Mad- 
emoiselle d'Artois kept ner bright looks, in a sort of 
wonder, on us, until the circumspection of those around 
her gave her a hint to disappear. This was the first 
direct and near view I got of the true state of popular 
feeling in Paris, toward the reigning family. Accord^ 
ing to the journals in the interest of the court, enthusi- 
asm was invariably exhibited whenever any of their 
princes appeared in public." 

The affairs of France were fast hastening to a crisis. 
Charles X., in 1829, appointed Prince Polignac to the 
head of the administration, a man known to entertain 
the most arbitrary purposes. Prince Polignac was 
supposed to be an illegitimate son of Charles X., by a 
lady of the court of his brother, Louis XYI. The king 
had long desired to make him prime minister, despite 
the views of the people. ]^ever had a ministry in 
any country to encounter such a storm of virulence 
and invective, as that which assailed the cabinet of 
Prince Polignac. Charles more than shared the odium 
thrown on his obnoxious favorite; his patronage of the 
Jesuits and monastic orders, his revival of austere and 
rigid etiquette in his court, and his marked dislike of 
those who had acquired eminence in the Revolution, or 
under Napoleon, were circumstances which rendered 
him unpopular with the great bulk of the nation so 



WAR m ALGIEES. Ill 

L«g estranged from the Bourbons and their policy. 
Polignac defied the storm ; but unfortunately, as the 
contest continued, he departed from the course of 
caution and prudence, probably because injustice had 
driven him into anger, and he soon furnished his 
adversaries with just grounds for continued hostility. 
When the chambers assembled, the royal speech was a 
direct attack on the first j)rinciples of the constitution, 
concluding with a threat of resuming the concessions 
made by the charter, which was notoriously impotent, 
and therefore supremely ridiculous. A very uncourtly 
reply was voted by the chamber of deputies, after a 
very animated debate, by a majority of forty. The 
only alternative now left was a dissolution of the 
chambers, or a change of the ministry ; Charles X. 
chose the former, trusting that events might turn the 
popular current, and give him a more manageable 
chamber at a new election. 

Charles and his minister appear to have hoped that 
their unpopularity would be overcome, and their fu- 
ture projects facilitated, by gratifying the taste of the 
French people for military glory. An armament was 
therefore prepared w^ith extraordinary care, and sent 
against Algiers, under the pretext that the dey had in- 
sulted the honor of France. The success of the ex- 
pedition corresponded with the exertions made to 
insure it ; the city of Algiers was taken after a very 
slight resistance, the dey was sent prisoner to Italy, 
and his vast treasures remained at the disposal of the 
conquerors. It was reasonable that the maritime pow- 
ers should feel jealous at the establishment of French 
garrisons and colonies in northern Africa ; to allay 



112 RESTOEATION OF THE BOURBONS. 

their suspicions, a promise was made that the oecvipa 
tion of Algiers should be merely temporary ; but the 
French nation formed such an infatuated attachment 
to their conquest, that they have kept it ever since, 
though it costs an annual waste of life and treasure, 
without conferring any appreciable advantage either 
on Africa or on France. Polignac, relying on the 
moral eiiect which the conquest of Algiers would 
produce, dissolved the chambers, but with the same 
infatuation which seems to have directed all his move- 
ments, he at the same time dismissed the only two 
moderate members of his cabinet, and supplied their 
places by the most unpopular men in France. Such a 
course, as ought to have been foreseen, more than 
counterbalanced any benefit which the ministers might 
have gained from the conquest of Algiers ; the elec- 
tions left them in a miserable minority, and niatters 
were brought to a crisis. The majority of the com- 
mercial classes and landed proprietors in France 
dreaded the renewal of civil commotions ; they knew 
that there was an active republican party in the coun- 
try, which, though not very numerous, was very ener- 
getic; they feared, and not without reason, that the 
triumph of this party would terminate in another revo- 
lutionary struggle. But at the same time, these classes 
were equally hostile to the restoration of the ancient 
despotism, which they believed to be the object of the 
king and his ministers. Had Charles X. declared that 
he would be contented with the prerogatives of a con- 
stitutional monarch, dismissed his obnoxious minis- 
ters, and formed a cabinet of moderate men, the crisis 
would have passed over without danger ; unfortunately, 



FREEDOM OF THE PEESS AEOLISKED. 113 

more arbitrary councils prevailed ; Pollgnac and his 
colleagues resolved to terminate the struggle by sub 
verting the constitution. 

Charles X. was a gentlemanly and good-natured old 
man, but obstinate and in his dotage. Seeing and 
fearing the head-way which liberal opinions were mak- 
ing in ]?rance, he had the folly to appoint a ministry, 
each individual of which was a known opponent of 
liberal principles, and especially obnoxious to the 
French people. The public press immediately opened 
upon this ministry the most harassing and merciless 
warfare. Charles, annoyed and irritated by the loud 
and continued demonstrations of the public hatred, 
with a degree of insanity to which we can hardly find 
a parallel even in the folly of princes, determined to 
abolish the freedom of the press, and silence these 
voices of the nation. On Monday morning, (July 26, 
1830,) the Moniteur, the government paper, appeared 
with an ordinance declaring, among other obnoxious 
articles, that at all times the periodical press had been, 
and it was its nature to be, only an in&i:.rument of dis- 
order and sedition. It therefore declared that the free- 
dom of the press was no longer to be permitted, but 
that it was placed under the censorship of the govern- 
ment. Upon the appearance of this execrable ordi- 
nance, excitement and indignation flamed like a con- 
flagration through every lane and alley of the city. 
ThoQsands began to assemble around the reading- 
rooms. The great thoroughfares leading to the public 
squares of tlie city, to the garden of the Tuileries, and 
the Palais Koyal, were thronged with the roused mas- 
ses, crowding to these centres of intelligence. Readers, 
8 



H4 EESTOEATION OF THE BOUKBONS. 

mounted upon barrels and chairs, loudlj read the 
government ordinance to the gathering multitude. 

As the police endeavored to arrest a man who was 
reading the new laws to the excited crowd, he indig- 
nantly replied, "I am only blowing the trumpet, if 
you dislike the notes, go settle the matter with those 
who composed the music." During the day, the ap- 
pearance of serious popular commotion became more 
and more threatening. As the shades of night dark- 
ened the streets of the inflamed city, cries of " Live 
the Constitution!" "Down with the Bourbons!" 
"Death to the ministry!" resounded through the 
gloom. As the mounted troops of the king were driv- 
ing the gathering people from one of the streets, the 
populace seized upon a passing omnibus, overturned it, 
and, throwing around it such articles of heavy furni- 
ture as could be gathered from the adjoining dwellings, 
formed a barricade which eflTectually arrested the pro- 
gress of the troops. Behind this barricade they val- 
iantly defended themselves with paving stones and 
every missile within their reach. Instantaneously, 
every mind saw the efficacy of this measure. The 
lamps lighting the city were dashed, and the populace 
toiled the livelong night in the mystery of darkness, 
making arrangements for the conflict of the morrow. 
Crowds of students from the military schools thronged 
the streets, filling the midnight air with the Marseilles 
Hymn, those spirit-stirring words, which, in the old 
Revolution, so often roused the multitude to frenzy. 

On the morning of the 27th, few of the journals ap- 
peared, for the • publication of those which were not 
sanctioned by the minister of the interior was prohibited 



THE EIOT BECOMES A EEYOLrTION. 115 

bj the police. The proprietors of two journals printed 
their papers in defiance of the ordinance, and the first 
disturbance was occasioned by the police forcing an en- 
trance into their establishments, breaking the presses, 
scattering the types, and rendering the machinery un- 
serviceable. So little was an insurrection anticipated, 
that Charles, accompanied by the dauphin, went on a 
hunting match to Rambouillet ; and his ministers neg- 
lected the ordinary precaution of strengthening tlie 
garrison of the capital. 

Between six and seven o'clock in the evening, some 
detachments of troops were sent to the aid of the 
police ; this was the signal for commencing the con- 
test ; several smart skirmishes took place between the 
citizens and the soldiers, in which the latter were gen- 
erally successful, so that Marmont, the military gover- 
nor of Paris, wrote a letter to the king, congratulating 
him on the suppression of the riot, while the minis- 
ters issued their last ordinance, declaring Paris in a 
state of siege. When night closed in, the citizens 
destroyed every lamp in the city, thus securing the 
protection of darkness for their preparation to renew 
the struggle. 

On the morning of the 28th, Marmont was aston- 
ished to find that the riots which he had deemed 
suppressed, had assumed the formidable aspect of a 
revolution. The citizens were ready and organized for 
a decisive contest ; they were in possession of the arse- 
nal and the powder magazine ; they had procured 
arms from the shops of the gunsmiths and the police 
stations ; they erected barricades across the principal 
streets, and had selected leaders competent to direct 



116 RESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS. 

, their exertions. Under these circumstances, the mar 
fibal hesitated before taking any decisive step ; it was 
noon before he had resolved how to act, and he then 
determined to clear the streets by military force. He 
divided his troops into four columns, which he directed 
to move in different directions, thus unwisely separat- 
ing his forces, so that they could not act in concert. 
Every step taken by the columns was marked by a 
series of murderous conflicts ; they were assailed with 
musketry from the barricades, from the windows and 
tops of houses, from the corners of streets, and from 
the narrow alleys and passages which abound in Paris. 
When the cavalry attempted to charge, they were 
overwhelmed with stones and articles of furniture 
flung from the houses ; their horses stumbled in the 
unpaved streets, or were checked by the barricades, 
while the citizens, protected by their dwellings, kept up 
a heavy fire, which the disheartened horsemen were 
unable to return. Though the royal guards performed 
their duty, the troops of the line showed great reluc- 
tance to fire on the citizens, and hence the insurgents 
were enabled to seize many important points with little 
or no opposition. When evening closed, the troops 
had been defeated in every direction ; they returned 
to their barracks, weary, hungry, and dispirited ; by 
some inexplicable blunder, no provision was made for 
their refreshment, while every family in Paris vied in 
supplying the insurgents with everything they wanted. 
Marmont was now fully sensible of the perils of his 
situation ; he wrote to the infatuated king, represent- 
ing the dangerous condition of Paris, and soliciting 
fresh instructions; the orders he received in reply. 



THE EXILED BOKAPAKTES. 117 

urged iiim to persevere. The contest was renewed on 
the morning of the third day, the soldiers evincing 
great feebleness, while the populace seemed animated 
by a certainty of success. While the issue was yet 
doubtful, two regiments of the line went over to the 
insurgents in a body ; the citizens, thus strengthened, 
rushed through the gap which this defection left in the 
royal line, took the Louvre by assault, and soon com- 
pelled the troops that remained faithful to the royal 
cause, either to lay down their arms or evacuate Paris. 
The Revolution was speedily completed by the instal- 
lation of a provisional government ; measures were 
adopted for the speedy convocation of the chambers, 
and in a few hours the capital had nearly assumed its 
ordinary aspect of tranquillity. 

Charles and his ministers appear to have believed 
that the country would not follow the example of 
Paris. They were speedily convinced of their error ; 
the king was abandoned, not only by his courtiers, 
but even by his household servants ; he was forced to 
remain helpless in his country-seat, until he was 
dismissed to contemptuous exile by the national 
commissioners. 

The crash at Waterloo had scattered the Bonapartes 
about the world as exiles. During the reckless and 
treacherous sway of Louis XYIIL, and the foolhardy 
reign of Charles X., the liberty, if not the lives of the 
Bonapartes, and also the wreck of their estates, de- 
pended on their absolute quietude. Among them, 
Queen Hortense left the splendors to which she was 
accustomed, and with her two sons retired to Switzer- 
Jg,j^(J. ]5scorted by an Austriaii of^cer, the (jnee^ 



118 RESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS. 

.nrrived at the eastern frontier. "I quitted, (said she,) 
the territory of France, from which the allied powers 
expelled me, in haste, weak woman as I am, wdth my 
two sons ; so much was I feared by them, that from 
post to post the enemies' troops were under arms, as it 
was said, to protect my safe passage." It was thus 
that the young princes whose birth was welcomed by 
the tliunder of cannon, and who had grown up under 
the shadow of the greatest throne in the world, saw all 
the magnificence of royalty depart from them. With 
their youth, their country, their family, and their fu- 
ture hopes, all seemed to disappear at once, and give 
place to exile and the bitter trials of the world into 
which they were entering by the gate of misfortune. 
Augsburg, and afterward a house on the shores of the 
Lake Constance, was the asylum to which Queen 
Hortense retired. In this retreat she devoted herself 
wholly to the education of her sons. Prince Louis 
Napoleon was admitted into the camp at Thun, in the 
canton of Berne, which the Swiss assembled every 
year for the instruction and practice of engineer and 
artillery officers, under the direction of l^apoleon's 
skillful officers. This instruction consisted not merely 
in communicating information on the science, but in 
actual maneuvers and expeditions among the glaciers, 
in which the young prince, with his knapsack on his 
back, took part, partaking of the bread of the common 
soldier, and with his pick. and compass in his hand. 
" My son," says Queen Llortense, in one of her letters, 
" is still with the pupils at Thun, engaged in making 
military reGonaissances in the mountains. They go 
pn foot ten or twelve leagues a day, and by night 



LOUIS NAPOLEON. 119 

sleep under a tent at the foot of the glaciers." Re- 
ceiving such a mixed general and military education 
as was supposed to be suitable for young men in their 
circumstances, the two sons of Queen Hortense at- 
tained the age of early manhood. Naturally a rest- 
less., hair-brained character, no member of the dis- 
persed Bonaparte family seems to have retained in 
exile such a concentrated amount of the Emperor's 
spirit as young Louis l^apoleon. From his earliest 
years he seems to have realized his position as a Bo- 
naparte, and always entertained a conviction that he 
would ultimately occupy a position in Eui ope commen- 
surate with the dignity of his birth. Even before the 
death of the Emperor's son, (who, with the title of Duke 
of Beichstadt, was a virtual prisoner in Austria,) or of 
his own elder brother, Louis Napoleon was altogether 
their superior in every thing that concerned the active 
assertion of the family claims ; and after their death, 
precedence was converted into a sense of actual right. 
By the terms of the decree concerning the succession, 
he then assumed the first place in the second genera- 
tion of Bonapartes — the lawful heir after his uncle 
Joseph and his father Louis, to all that could be re- 
covered of the imperial fortunes. He became the de- 
clared imitator and executor of his uncle — the ac- 
knowledged] chief of the young ISTapoleonidse. Yet, 
in many respects, he seemed little fitted for this post 
of honor. In person, he was the least like the Em- 
peror of all tlie surviving Bonapartes ; the Beauhar- 
nais features of his mother predominating in his 
heavy, somber . countenance, over whatever of the 



120 BESTOEATION OF THE BOURBONS. 

Napoleonic be may have derived from his father. But 
his com^age, self-confidence, and audacity, with a sol- 
dierly good-nature and kindly susceptibility, rendered 
Lim quite popular among the people of the free valleys 
:>f Switzerland, his adopted country. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE REIGN OF LOUIS PHILIPPE 

The last of the memorable " three days " of July, 
1830, dawned upon Paris. The night before, prince 
Polignac had been congratulated on having defeated 
the insurgents. Charles X. felt so secure that he spent 
a part^of the evening playing whist. "The Parisians, 
(said he,) are in a state of anarchy ; anarchy will ne- 
cessarily bring them to my feet." But on the morning 
of Wednesday, the 30th, the streets were filled with 
people. Instead of the unarmed mobs, which had fled 
before the dragoons the preceding day, there now ap- 
peared throngs of well-armed citizens, marshaled hero 
and there in military array under active leaders, 
either veteran generals of the old revolutionary armies, 
or enthusiastic students from the military schools. 
From the venerable towers of IT^tre Dame the tri-col- 
ored flag of the Revolution was seen floating* in the 
breeze. The tri-colored cockade, the pledge of resist- 
ance unto death, was upon every hat. The melan- 
choly peal of the alarm-bells and the martial drum 
collected the populace in innumerable rendezvous for 
war. Anxiety and stern defiance sat on every coun- 
tenance. Paris was a camp — a battle-field. The king 
had in Paris and its immediate vicinity, eighteen thou- 
sand troops, veterans in war. To meet these in deadly 




122 THE EEIGN OF LOUIS PHlLLlPPE. 

conflict was no child's play. As soon as the morning 
light was spread over the city, the sound of the 
trumpet and martial drum was heard, as the regiments 
of the king, in solid phalanx, marched from their head- 
quarters at the Tuileries, with infantry, and artillery, 
and cavalry, to sweep the streets of the insurgent city. 
Then ensued scenes of murderous strife, such as have 
seldom been exceeded in any conflict. The demon of 
war rioted in every street of the city. Heavy can- 
non mowed down the opposing multitude with ball 
and grape-shot. Bomb-shells demolished the houses 
which afibrded a covert to the assailing people. Well- 
mounted troops, armed to the teeth, drove their bullets 
into every eye that peeped from a window, and into 
every hand that appeared from a turret. 

It is not easy to imagine the havoc that must be 
produced by the balls from heavy artillery bounding 
over the pavements of a crowded city, and tearing 
their destructive way through parlors and chambers, 
where affrighted mothers and babes were clustered 
together. One lady had retired in terror to her cham- 
ber and her bed, when a cannon-ball pierced the 
house, passed through the bed and through her body, 
and, scattering her mangled remains over the room, 
continued unimpeded on its way of destruction and 
carnage. 

A female, as she observed the awful slaughter which 
one of the king's cannon produced as it mowed down 
the crowds in the streets, rushed to the cannon, pressed 
her bosom to its mouth, and, clasping it with her arms, 
entreated the ofiicer in command to desist. The sol- 
diers endeavored to pull her away. But with frantic 



THE PEOPLE. V2h 

strengtii she clung to the gun, declaring that, if they 
would continue their slaughter, they should fire through 
lier body. The officer commanded the torch to be ap- 
plied. The gunner shrank from the horrible deed. 
" Fire ! " shouted the officer, " or I will thrust my sword 
through your body." The torch was applied, and 
instantly the remains of this heroic woman were 
scattered in fragments through the air. 

The tumult was increasing. The conflict became 
more bloody and determined. The streets were every- 
where obstructed by barricades, and from the roofs 
and windows of the houses, a shower of tiles, paving 
stones, broken bottles, and even articles of furniture 
rained on the heads of the unfortunate soldiery. Mar- 
mont, who had been appointed to the command of the 
troops, by Charles X., was in a painful situation — his 
duty as a soldier required of him what was contrary to 
his inclination as a man. To a deputation of citizens 
who waited on him, he expressed his determination to 
execute his orders. He said that the only way to stop 
the effiision of blood was for the people of Paris to re- 
turn to obedience. The deputation replied that there 
could be no peace while Charles X. adhered to his 
tyrannical views — no obedience to a king who tram- 
pled on the rights of the people. Marmont sent a 
message to the king, informing him of the interview 
with the deputation, and of the state of affairs. The 
king was at St. Cloud, a short distance from Paris, en- 
gaged in the chase. The only reply he made to the 
messenger from Marmont was, a command to fight on. 
The infatuated monarch and his court seemed to have 
no idea of the magnitude of the danger, and although 



they could hear the caDnon roaring in the streets of 
Paris, and knew that the people were in deadly con- 
flict with the soldiery, Charles X. sat down composedly 
to a game of whist. 

All was confusion in Paris. It was not known in 
one quarter what was doing in another; there was 
nobody to direct the insurrection ; no union, no au- 
thority. It was a moment of anarchy ; for the royal 
power was resisted, and no new one had yet arisen. 
But it is the nature of society to struggle for order 
even in the midst of discord. Some persons announced 
in a placard, which was posted in several parts of the 
city, that a provisional government had been formed, 
at the head of which was General Lafayette. The 
falsehood was soon discovered ; but it helped to sus- 
tain the courage of the combatants : it showed what 
people were thinking about. 

The falsehood of one day became a verity on the 
next. On the 31st of July, a proclamation was ad- 
dressed to the Parisians, which began with this decla- 
ration — "Inhabitants of Paris! Charles X. has ceased 
to reign!" It announced the formation of a provi- 
sional government. Neither Lafayette nor the persons 
temporarily intrusted with authority, were prepared to 
proclaim a republic. They were uncertain what course 
to pursue. While they hesitated, Charles X. might 
take advantage of the circumstance and regain his 
authority. Affairs were in a critical state. It was 
finally determined to invite the Duke of Orleans to 
the head of the nation, with the title of Lieutenant 
General. A deputation was sent to him for that pur- 
pose. He hesitated, or appeared to hesitate. He asked 



tXtm of chAkles X. 125 

for a brief period to deliberate, and sent to consult 
Talleyrand, whose answer was — "Let him accept," 
and the duke accepted. A proclamation was imme- 
diately published in the name of the Duke of Orleans, 
m which he announced to the Parisians, that having 
complied with the wishes of the representatives of the 
people, in accepting power, his first act would be to 
assemble the chambers to consult about the means of 
securing the observance of law and the maintenance 
of the rights of the nation. The deputies immediately 
issued a proclamation to the French people, announ- 
cing that France was free! that absolute power had 
endeavored to raise its standard, but that the heroic 
population of Paris had dashed it to the ground. 

In the mean time Charles X. was on his way to 
exile. On the 30th of July, it was known at St. Cloud 
that the king's authority no longer existed, and the 
people who were about him dropped off rapidly, and 
he was left almost alone. He left St. Cloud at the 
head of a few followers, and started toward the sea- 
coast ; but he lingered on the way, hoping to hear that 
his grandson, in whose favor he wrote a formal act*of 
abdication, would be accepted as king of France. It 
was two weeks before he left the soil of France. ISTo 
one showed him any personal disrespect, but he could 
not but perceive that his expulsion froiu %e kingdom 
gave almost universal satisfaction. 

In determining the character of the new govern- 
ment, all looked to the venerable Lafayette. He pos- 
sessed immense influence, and his advice was decisive. 
He feared that France was not prepared to become a 
republic. He believed that a monarchy was necessary 



1'26 fHE REIGN OF Lotus l*HlLLlPI»E. 

to protect the country from anarchy. He considered 
the elevation of the Duke of Orleans to the vacant 
throne, with the concession of important rights to the 
people, to be the surest guarantee of the public safety. 
" France needs a throne surrounded by republican in- 
stitutions," said he. Accordingly the Duke of Orleans 
was, on the 9th of August, invited to become King of 
the French. He gave his acceptance in these terms : 
"I have read with great attention the declaration of 
the Chamber of Deputies and the act of adhesion of 
the Chamber of Peers. I have weighed and medi- 
tated every expression therein. I accept, without re- 
striction or reservation, the clauses and engagements 
contained in that declaration, and the title of the King 
of the French which it confers on me, and am ready 
to make oath to observe the same." He then rose, took 
off his glove, uncovered his head, and pronounced the 
following oath; "In the presence of God, I swear 
faithfully to observe the constitutional charter, with 
the modifications set forth in the declaration ; to gov- 
ern only by the laws ; to cause good and exact justice 
to^be administered to every one according to his right; 
and to act in every thing with the sole view to the 
interest, the welfare, and the glory of the French na- 
tion." He then appeared on the balcony before the 
masses of the people, accompanied by Lafayette, into 
whose arms he threw himself " as into the arms of the 
nation personified." The veteran of revolutions, point- 
ing to the new king, exclaimed — "This is the prince 
whom we wanted : it is the best of republics !" And 
60 the Duke of Orleans ascended the throne as Louis 
Philippe I., King of the French, 



tOtJlS I'HILIPPE. 12? 

Louis Philippe of Orleans, Duke of Yalois at his 
birth, Duke of Chartres on the death of his grand- 
father, (1785,) Duke of Orleans on the death of his 
father, (1794,) and King of the French in 1830, was born 
October 6, 1773. He was one of five children. His 
brothers were the Duke of Montpensier, born in 1775, 
and the Count of Beaujolais, born in 1779 ; his sisters 
were Marie Caroline, who died in infancy, and Eu- 
genie Adelaide, her twin sister. His father was Louis 
Pliilippe Joseph, Duke of Orleans, better known under 
his revolutionary title of Philip Egalite. The Orleans 
branch of the Bourbon family, originated in a younger 
son of Louis XIIL, created Duke of Orleans by his 
older brother Louis XYL, and of whom Louis Philippe 
was the grandson's great-grandson. 

Whatever were the personal and political faults of 
citizen Egalite, he was a kind father, and beloved by 
his children. Desirous of imparting to his family a 
sound education, in which he himself had had the 
misfortune to be deficient, he committed them to the 
superintendence of his mistress, Madame de Sillery — 
better known by her later acquired title of Countess de 
Genlis. l^otwithstanding the errors of this lady, she 
was eminently qualified, by her talents and disposi- 
tions, to be an instructress of youth. She appears to 
have endeavored to make up for her own misconduct 
by a scrupulous regard to the manners and morals of 
her pupils. The principles on which she based her 
plans of education were considerably in advance of the 
age, and such as are only now beginning to be gener- 
ally understood. She considered that it was of the 
■Qrst importance to surround children, almost from 



l28 THE REIGN OF LOUIS PHiLLlt»t»S. 

their cradle, with happy and cheering influences, to the 
exclusion of every thiug likely to contaminate their 
minds or feelings. It was necessary, above all things 
to implant in them a universal spirit of love — a love 
of God and his works, the consciousness that all was 
from the hand of an Almighty Creator and Preserver 
who willed the happiness of his creatures. To excite 
this feeling in her young charge, she took every oppor- 
tunity of arousing the sentiment of wonder with respect 
to natural phenomena, and then of explaining the 
seeming marvels on principles which an awakening 
intelligence could be led to comprehend. The other 
means adopted to form the character of her young 
pupils — the Duke of Yalois, Duke of Montpensier, 
the Count Beaujolais, and their sister the Princess 
Adelaide — were equally to be admired. While re- 
ceiving instructions in different branches of polite 
learning, and in the Christian doctrines and graces, 
from properly qualified tutors, they learned, without 
labor or pain, to speak English, German and Italian, 
by being attended by domestics who respectively con- 
versed in these languages. Nor was their physical 
education neglected. The boys were trained to endure 
all kinds of bodily fatigue, and taught a variety of 
useful and amusing industrial exercises. At St. Leu, 
a pleasant country residence near Paris, where the 
family resided under the charge of Madame de Genlis, 
the young princes cultivated a small garden under the 
direction of a German gardener, while they were in- 
structed in botany and the practice of medicine by a 
medical gentleman, who was the companion of their 
rambles. They had also atelier s^ or workshops, in 



YOUTH OF LOUIS PHILIPPE. 129 

which they were taught turning, basket-making, weav- 
ing, and carpentry. The young Duke of Yalois took 
pleasure in these pursuits — as what boy would not, 
under proper direction, and if allowed scope for his 
ingenuity ? He excelled in cabinet-making ; and, as- 
sisted only by his brother, the Duke of Montpensier, 
made a handsome cupboard, and a table with drawers, 
for a poor woman in the village of St. Leu. 

Louis Philippe passed from the hands of his senti- 
mental, but by no means incompetent or unskillful 
tutor, to step at once into the thorny path of active 
life- At an early age he entered the army, and in 
1785, inherited the colonelcy of the regiment of cav- 
alry which bore his name. In 1791 he commanded the 
fortress of Yalenciennes. His attention to military 
duty had acquired for him the respect of his superiors, 
and was held up as a pattern to the service. His 
ability to say exactly what the occasion required, and 
which, while king of the French, so distinguished him, 
was early developed. When he heard that the right 
of primogeniture had been abolished, he turned to his 
younger brother, the Duke of Montpensier, and em- 
bracing him, exclaimed — " Ah ! now we are brothers 
in every respect." "When an old officer went to Yal- 
enciennes, to pay his respects to the new commandant, 
the veteran exclaimed — " Ah ! Monsieur, I have never 
before had the pleasure of seeing so young a general 
officer ; how have you contrived to be made a general 
so soon ? " Louis Philippe replied — " By being a son 
of him who made a colonel of you." The veteran 
laughed, shook hands, and they became friends at once. 

While Louis Philippe, now Duke of Chartres^ was in 



130 THE BEIGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPB. 

aiins iga:/*8t the armies which menaced the tottering 
fabric of fhe French monarchy, the Kevolution was 
haste?, mg io its crisis. Monarchy being extinguished, 
and li e king and his family placed in confinement, a 
decree of banishment was hastily passed against all 
othe: members of the Bourbon race. The Duke of 
Chai-t.-vS earnestly besought his father to take advan- 
tage y the decree of banishment, and with his family 
seek a retreat in a foreign country. " You will assur- 
edly, (said he, addressing the Duke of Orleans,) find 
yourself in an appalling situation. Louis XYI. is 
about to be accused before an assembly of which you 
are a member. You must sit before the king as his 
judge. Reject the ungracious duty, withdraw with 
your family to America, and seek a calm retreat far 
from the enemies of France, and there await the return 
of happier days." To these persuasives the Duke of 
Orleans lent a deaf ear ; he either considered it to be 
inconsistent with his honor and his duty to desert his 
post at the approach of danger ; or, what is as prob- 
able, he expected that by a turn of affairs he might be 
elevated to the first place of the nation, whatever 
should be its form of government, l^evertheless, 
moved by the entreaties of his son, Orleans desired 
him to consult an influential member of the Assembly 
on the subject, and let him know the result. The 
deputy, however, declined to express his opinion. "I 
am incompetent," said he, " to give your father any 
advice. Our positions are dissimilar. I myself seek 
redress for personal injuries ; your father, the Duke of 
Orleans, ought to obey the dictates of his conscience as 
a prince — of his duties as a citizen," The undecided 



EXECUTION OF LOUIS PHILIPPe's FATHEE. 131 

answer neither influenced the judgment of the Duke of 
Orleans, nor corroborated the arguments of his son. 
Impressed to the fullest extent with the duties of a citi- 
zen, he felt that he could not honorably recede ; and 
that a man, whatever his rank might be, who inten- 
tionally abandoned his country, was deserving of the 
penalties reserved for traitors. Perceiving that his 
father made his determination a point of honor — a 
case of political conscientiousness — he desisted from 
further solicitation, embraced him for the last time, 
and returned to the army. 

Events now rapidly followed each other. On the 
21st of January, 1793, Louis XYI. was carried to the 
scaffold, and a few months thereafter, the Duke of Or- 
leans was seized on the charge of conspiring against the 
nation. On the 6th of November, he was brought be- 
fore the revolutionary tribunal, and, after a mock trial, 
condemned to death on a series of charges, of all which 
he was notoriously guiltless. Yiewing the proceedings 
of his judges with contempt, he begged, as an only fa- 
vor, that the sentence might be executed without delay. 
The indulgence was granted, and he was led, at four 
o'clock, when the daylight was about failing, from the 
court to the guillotine. The courage of this intrepid 
man faltered not at the place of execution. When the 
executioner took off his coat, he calmly observed to the 
assistants who were going to draw off' his boots, " It is 
only loss of time ; you will remove them more easily 
from the lifeless limbs." In a few minutes he was no 
more. 

Seven months previous to the death of his father, the 
Duke of Chartres, along with his friend General 



132 THE KEIGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

Dumouriez, became assured that the cause of moderation 
was lost, and looked with apprehension on the Reign 
of Terror which had already begun to manifest itself. 
There was little time for deliberation as to their course. 
Being summoned to appear before the Committee of 
Public Safety, and knowing that citations of this nature 
were for the most part equivalent to condemnation, 
both instantly fled toward the French frontier. The 
fugitives were hotly pursued, but were fortunate in 
making their escape into the Belgian JSTetherlands, at 
that time belonging to Austria. 

The next six or seven years of his life was a period 
of great hardship and obscurity. Hated by the royal- 
ists for refusing to serve with the Austrians, and for 
his father's conduct during the Eevolution, he was re- 
lentlessly pursued by the republican government; in 
addition to which, he was sufl^ering from narrow 
means. Traveling incognito through the Low Coun- 
tries, he joined his sister in Switzerland, and pro- 
ceeded to Zurich. Having been recognized, the party 
were obliged to quit the city, on account of the fears 
of magistrates and the excitement of the emigrants. 
The exiles next took up their abode in a small house 
near Zug ; but the duke was once more identified by 
some emigrants passing through the town, and the 
authorities of Berne compelled his removal. His sister 
procured admission into a convent; the duke took 
leave of the few friends who had hitherto accom- 
panied his fortunes, sold his horses to raise money, 
and, attended by a faithful servant who refused to 
leave him, traversed Switzerland on foot, knapsack on 
b^ckf Master and servant reached the celebratec} 



LOUIS PHILIPPE A TEACHER. 138 

monastery of St. Gotliard, tired and footsore; the 
Prince rang the bell, and craved refreshment. "There 
is no admittance here for travelers on foot," was the 
reply ; "certainly not for men of your appearance. 
Yonder is the house for you," and the monk pointed 
with his finger to a shed in which some muleteers 
were eating cheese, and slammed the door in the 
Prince's face. At Gordona, on another occasion, du- 
ring a bitter night, Louis Philippe j)i*esented himself 
at a farm-house, without luggage, and in somewhat 
damaged attire. He asked hospitality, and, after 
much demurring, he was allowed to have a bed of 
straw in a barn. The future king slept soundly until 
the break of day, when he awoke to find a young man 
armed with a gun pacing the floor as sentinel. The 
appearance of the traveler had excited suspicion in 
the house, and orders had been given to shoot him if 
he attempted mischief. 

It was while pursuing this somewhat ignoble course 
of life, that a plan was suggested to the young duke 
which promised immediate if not lasting relief from 
his great embarrassment. A gentleman named Cha- 
bot-Latour had been invited from Paris to take a pro- 
fessorship in the college of Eeichenau. M. Chabot- 
Latour failed to keep his engagement, and, by the 
contrivance of the Prince's friends, it was arranged 
that the Duke of Chartres should appear in the name 
and placo of the absent candidate. The Prince ac- 
cordingly presented himself for examination, and was 
unanimously elected, after receiving great commenda- 
tion for the ability and knowledge he had evinced 
throughodt the ordeal. He was then twenty-two years 



134 THE REIGN OF LOCIS PHILLIPPE. 

of age ; his salary was about $275 a-year, a larger sal 
ary than was usual in Switzerland ; and for that sum he 
taught history, geography, mathematics, and the Eng- 
lish language. For the space of one year during which 
he held the professorship, none but the director of 
the institution was aware of the teacher's rank. Louis 
Philippe was quietly instructing the youth of Rieche- 
nau, when he received news of his father's melancholy 
death, and of his own accession to an empty, blood- 
stained title. He threw up his appointment at once, 
and in June, 1794, retired to Bremgarten. He carried 
along with him an honorable testimony of the services 
he had rendered to the academy, and was justly proud 
of the document when he afterward sat upon the throne 
of France, reputed the wisest monarch of his time. 

Melancholy, and weary of his fate, the exile pined to 
quit Europe, and in a new world " to forget the great- 
ness and the sufferings which had been the compan- 
ions of his youth." But he was literally without a far- 
thing. A frier, d wrote on his behalf to Robert Morris, 
who had been embassador to France from the United 
States. He had been acquainted with Egalite, and was 
then at Hamburgh, about to return to his native 
country. Mr. Morris answered the application with 
promptitude and kindness. He offered the Prinjce a 
free passage to America, his services when the exile 
should arrive there, and, at the same time, he trans- 
mitted an order for $500 to defray the expenses of 
the journey to Hamburgh. The Prince accepted 
Mr. Morris's friendship in the spirit in which it was 
offered. " I am quite disposed to labor in order to 
make myself independent," he wrote to his benefactor: 



LOUIS PHILIPPE TRAVELma ON FOOT. 135 

"1 scarcely entered upon life when the greatest misfor- 
tunes assailed me ; but, thank God, they have not dis- 
couraged me. I feel a great happiness in my re- 
verses that my youth has not given me time to attach 
myself too much to my position, or to contract habits 
of life difficult to be broken, and that I have been de- 
prived of my fortune before I was able to abuse or 
even use it." It was well and royally said. But how 
much clearer the intellectual vision of the youth than 
the maturer eyesight of the man ! On the 10th of 
March, 1795, Louis Philippe quitted Bremgarten and 
reached Hamburgh at the end of the month. 

At Hamburgh the Prince missed his friend, who 
was then employed upon a diplomatic mission in Ger- 
many, Some months must elapse before Mr. Morris 
could return to Hamburgh, and the young adventurer 
resolved to employ the interval in exploring Northern 
Europe. The undertaking half a century ago was 
associated with difficulties unknown to the traveler of 
to-day. He visited the duchies of Holstein and Schles- 
wig, the island of Zealand, Copenhagen, and Elsinore, 
and in every place exhibited an honest zeal for infor- 
mation, that put suspicion to sleep. From Denmark he 
crossed to Sweden, and thence passed into ISTorway, 
making excursions, that were remembered long after- 
ward, to the iron and copper mines of that country. 
The northward journey did not end even here. The 
traveler was not content until he had seen the wonders 
of the Maelstrom, and had advanced some degrees 
beyond the Arctic Circle. Keturning southward, the 
Prince traversed on foot the desert which separates 
the ITorthern Ocean from the river Tornea. Fifteen 



1 36 THE REIGN OB' LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

days were occupied in the journey, during which time 
uo other nourishment could be procured than the milk 
and flesh of the reindeer. It must be acknowledged 
that Louis Philippe was now turning the misfortunes 
of his family to the most profitable account. By 
bringing himself into contact with every variety of 
life, and adding the treasures of personal observation 
to the stores of learning with which his mind was 
fraught, he was preparing himself for that course of 
events which afterward gave him a powerful influence 
over the destinies of his country and of Europe. The 
bold and rugged scenery of these arctic regions, and 
the simple and unpretending kindness of the inhab- 
itants, must have produced a vivid impression upon a 
young man of his rank and previous pursuits, sent 
forth under such circumstances to commence his novi- 
tiate in the world. Picking up knowledge, and enlarg- 
ing the range of his acquirements at every step, the 
youth returned to Fredericstadt, in Holstein, at which 
town he received the gratifying intelligence that the 
executive directory of France were prepared to grant 
liberty to his brothers, who had been kept close pris- 
oners since their father's death, upon condition that the 
Duke of Orleans with them would consent to banish- 
ment from Europe. The consent was given as soon as 
asked, and on the 24:th of October, 1796, Louis Phil- 
ippe landed in Philadelphia ; it was not until the 7th 
of February following, that, after a cruel and protracted 
absence, the brothers met in the same city, and found 
in their restoration to one another, some consolation for 
the sufferings long endured by all. Among their first 
visits was one to Gen. "Washington at Mount Yernon, 



LOUIS PHILIPPE IN AMERICA. 137 

who proposed for the exiled princes an itinerary jour- 
ney to the western country, and furnished them with 
some letters of introduction for persons upon the route. 
They made the necessary preparations for a long tour, 
which they performed on horseback, each of them 
carrying in a pair of saddle-bags, after the fashion of 
that period, whatever he might require in clothes or 
other articles for his personal comfort. The traveling- 
map of the three princes is still preserved, and fur- 
nishes convincing proof that it has passed through 
severe service. The various routes followed by the 
travelers are strongly depicted in red ink ; and by their 
extent and direction they show the great enterprise 
displayed by three young strangers to acquire a just 
knowledge of the country, at a time when the difficul- 
ties of traveling over a great part of the route were 
enough to discourage many a hardy American. Louis 
Philippe, in afterward showing this map to an 
American gentleman, mentioned that he possessed an 
accurate account, showing the expenditure of every 
dollar he disbursed in the United States! It is an 
example of business habits worthy of all praise and 
imitation. This attention to the important concern of 
personal expenditure was one of the characteristic 
features of "Washington ; and both of these celebrated 
men w^ere, no doubt, penetrated with the conviction 
that exactitude is essential to success. 

At the period in which the journey of the princes 
was performed, the back settlements of the United 
States were in a comparatively rude condition, and 
could not be traversed without undergoing many hard- 
ships. From Washington they went to Nashville, 



138 THE KETGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

Louisville, Wheeling, Pittsburg and ISTiagara Falls. 
At Bairdstown the party were detained by the illness 
of Duke Beaujolais. Forty years afterward, when 
Louis Philippe was king of France, he sent to Bairds- 
town a handsome clock as a memorial of the kindness 
with which he was entertained there. In their journey 
from Erie to Bufialo, they met a band of Seneca In- 
dians, to whom they were indebted for a night's hospi- 
tality. The chief assured the travelers that he would 
be personally responsible for every article they might 
intrust to his care; but that he would not answer for 
his people unless this precaution was used. Accord- 
ingly, every thing was deposited with the chief — sad- 
dles, bridles, blankets, clothes and money ; all which 
being faithfully produced in the morning, the day's 
journey was commenced. But the party had not pro- 
ceeded far upon the route, when they missed a favorite 
dog, which they had not supposed to be included in 
the list of contraband articles requiring a deposit in 
this aboriginal custom-house, and had therefore left it 
at liberty. He was a singularly beautiful animal, and 
having been the companion in imprisonment of the 
two younger brothers, at the castle of St. Jean, they 
were much attached to him. The Duke immediately 
returned to seek and reclaim the dog ; and the chief, 
without the slightest embarrassment, said to him, in 
answer to his representations, — "If you had intrusted 
the dog to me last night, he would have been ready for 
you this morning ; but we will find him." And he im- 
mediately went to a kind of closet, shut in by a board, 
and on removing this, the faithful animal leaped out 
upon his masters. 



LOUIS PHILIPPE IN LOVE. 139 

Scarcely resting at Buffalo, they crossed to Fort Erie 
on the British side, and then repaired to the Falls of 
Niagara. This grand natural object, as may be sup- 
posed, engaged the careful examination of the princes, 
and one of them, the Duke of Montpensier, who ex- 
celled in drawing, made a sketch of the cataract for 
his sister. The party then proceeded to Canandaigua, 
through a country almost in a state of nature. Con- 
tinuing their route to Geneva, they procured a boat, 
and embarked upon the Seneca Lake, which they 
ascended to its head ; and from thence they made their 
way to Tioga Point, upon the Susquehannah — each 
of the travelers carrying his baggage, for the last 
twenty-five mileSj upon his back. From Tioga the 
party proceeded to Wilkesbarre, and thence they 
crossed the country to Philadelphia. When in that 
city, Louis Philippe became enamored of a Miss W — , 
and solicited her father's permission to pay her his 
addresses, who is said to have replied, in substance : 
"As a penniless exile, you are no match for my daugh- 
ter ; and as a prince of the blood royal of France, you 
are far too great a one." It is a curious coincidence 
that the Princess of ISTaples, whom Louis Philippe 
married some years after he left America, very strongly 
resembled Miss W — . Many years after, when king 
of France, he distinguished by his attentions two 
young gentlemen of the W — family, who visited Paris 
in their travels, recalling his own sojourn in Philadel- 
phia when a homeless stranger. During the residence 
of the Duke of Orleans and his brothers at Phila- 
delphia, in 1797, the city was visited by that fatal epi- 
demic, yellow fever, but from which the unfortunate 



140 



THE EEIGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 



princes found it impossible to fly, on account of a 
lack of funds. Ywm this unpleasant and perilous 
dilemma they were happily relieved in the course of 
September, by a remittance from their mother. With 
a purse thus opportunely reinforced, they now under- 
took another journey, which this time led them to the 
eastern part of the United States, finally arriving in 
New York. Here the brothers learned that a new law 
had just decreed the expulsion of all the members of 
the Bourbon family yet remaining in France from that 
country ; and that their mother had been deported to 
Spain. Their object was now to join her ; but owing 
to their peculiar circumstances, and to the war between 
England and Spain, this object was not easily attained. 
To avoid the French cruisers upon the coast, they de- 
termined to repair to 'New Orleans, and there to find a 
conveyance for Havana, whence they thought they 
could reach the mother country. They set out, 
therefore, for Pittsburg in December, 1797. 

At Carlisle, Louis Philippe was thrown from his 
wagon and considerably injured. In early life, as we 
have seen, he had learned to perform the operation of 
bleeding. Immediately perceiving that his situation 
required depletion, and making his way, as he best 
could, to the tavern, he requested permission of the 
landlord to perform the operation in his house, and to 
be furnished with linen and water. The family was 
kind, and supplied him with every thing he required ; 
and he soon relieved himself by losing a quantity of 
blood. The circumstance, however, had attracted 
general attention, in consequence of the accident to the 
wagon, and of the injury to the traveler, and stil] 



LOUIS PHILIPPE KETUKNS TO EUROPE. 14:1 

more from the extraordinary occmTence of self-bleed- 
ing ; and a large crowd had collected in the tavern to 
watch the result of the operation. It is probable the 
curious spectators thought he was a Yankee doctor, 
going to the west to establish himself. Satisfied 
with the surgical ability which the stranger had just 
displayed, they proposed to him to remain at Carlisle, 
and to commence there his professional career, promis- 
ing to employ him, and assuring him that his prospect 
of success would be much more favorable than in the 
regions beyond the mountains. 

When our party reached Pittsburg, they found the 
Monongahela frozen, but the Alleghany open. They 
purchased a keel-boat, then lying in the ice, and with 
much labor and difficulty transported it to the point 
where the two rivers met and formed the Ohio. There 
the party embarked on that river, which they de- 
scended along with three persons to aid them in the 
navigation, and arrived at New Orleans in February, 
1198. 

Erom IS^ew Orleans they embarked on board an 
American vessel for Havana. Upon their passage 
they were boarded by an English frigate under French 
colors. Until the character of the cruiser was ascer- 
tained, the three brothers were apprehensive that they 
might be recognized and conducted to France. How- 
ever, when it was discovered, on one side, that the 
visitor was an English ship, and, on the other, that the 
three young passengers were the princes of the house 
of Orleans, confidence was restored, and the captain 
hastened to receive them on board his vessel, where he 
treated thena with distinction and coiicliicted ftem tQ 



142 THE KEIGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

Havana. The devoted young men reached Cuba, to be 
immediately expelled from it by the captain-general of 
the island. Orders had been received to deny them 
hospitality. In their despair, the princes resolved to 
seek shelter in a British colony. They proceeded to 
the Bahamas, thence to Halifax, and finally set sail for 
England. They reached London in February, 1800. 
Their destination, however, vras Spain, not England. 
They obtained a passage to Barcelona, and were within 
hail of that dear mother whom they had traveled so 
far to comfort with their presence. They were, never- 
theless, not permitted to land at Barcelona ; and the 
poor lady was not even told that they had reached the 
harbor on their affectionafee pilgrimage. The princes 
returned to England, and took up their residence at 
Twickenham. Here the exiles had at length an oppor- 
tunity of enjoying some repose in the midst of the 
best English society. They were treated with the 
greatest kindness by all classes, from royalty down- 
ward, and, by their unaffected manners, gained uni- 
versal esteem. But neither the polite attentions of the 
English people, nor the splendors of London fashion- 
able life, could obliterate the recollections of their 
mother from their hearts. After several years of quiet 
enjoyment, sorrow again visited Louis Philippe. His 
brother, the Duke of Montpensier, died (in 1807) of 
consumption. The funeral was scarcely over before 
the Count of Beaujolais was attacked with the same 
disease, and ordered to a warmer climate. Louis Phil- 
ippe accompanied the invalid to Malta, and reached the 
island in time to find a final resting place for the young 
eufferer. The Count of Beaujolais died at Yiletta, 



MAEEIAGE OF LOUIS PHILIPPE. "143 

in 1808. Fortunately for Louis Philippe he was not 
left alone in the world. He had still a sister. After 
fifteen years' separation, brother and sister had 
again met. Their meeting was most affecting. They 
vowed to each other never again to separate, and the 
vow was sacredly kept. In company they proceeded 
once more in search of their mother. With difficulty 
they managed to convey a letter to her, fixing a ren- 
dezvous at Minorca, and in September, 1809, they 
landed at that island, to embrace at last the object of 
their long and anxious search. With her, by invitation 
of King Ferdinand of J^aples, they took up their 
residence with the royal family at Palermo. After a 
brief interval, a marriage alliance was formed between 
Louis Philippe and the second daughter of Ferdinand. 
(It is curious that before the downfall of the French 
monarchy, an alliance had been contemplated between 
the young Duke of Chartres and the daughter of I^a- 
ples, then unborn.) Whatever doubts may arise about 
the marriages of other potentates, there can be little 
question that the union between Louis Philippe and 
the princess Marie Amelie was a love-match. The 
Duke of Orleans was then an exile, with an income 
both narrow and precarious, and without the remotest 
appearance of succeeding even to his patrimonial prop- 
erty. The king of Naples was shorn of the principal 
half of his dominions. He was only supported in the 
other by the power of Great Britain ; upon whose 
allowance he was indeed living, and whose exertions 
the folly of the court was doing its best to neutralize. 
Worldly objects would scarcely be contemplated by 
either party : looking at their rank, their prospects, 



144: THE KETGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

and tlie probability of a family, the marriage was 
scarcely a prudent one. However, marriage goes by 
destiny ; and, notwithstanding some objections and 
delays by the queen, consent was obtained, and on the 
25th of J^ovember, 1809, the Duke of Orleans and the 
Princess Marie Amelie were married, in the old l^or- 
man chapel, of the Palazzo Eeale. 

Before the marriage was permitted, however, the 
queen of Naples had employed Louis Philippe on 
one of her political schemes. When the popular insur- 
rection against Napoleon took place in Spain, she 
thought of getting her second son appointed regent 
of the kingdom ! Apparently proceeding upon " the 
one down and t' other come up" principle, she dis- 
patched her son Prince Leopold and Louis Philippe 
to Gibraltar, that the Spaniards might take one if they 
rejected the other. The princes were permitted to 
iand ; but Sir Hew DalifA^mple refused to forward the 
project, and Lord Collingwood, who commanded the 
fleet, pointed out to the Duke of Orleans the insupera- 
ble public difficulties in the way of the scheme, and 
the personal impolicy of a French prince in his posi- 
tion appearing in arms against France. Looking 
rather to his future mother-in-law than to the reason 
of the thing, the Duke departed for London to com- 
plain: but he was informed that the British govern- 
ment perfectly approved of Sir Hew Dalrymple's 
conduct, and could only re-impress Lord Collingwood's 
advice. 

Not content with this intrigue, the Duke on his re- 
turn engaged in another. The object was to put him 
^t; the head of a Catalan army, that, among other 



t)A2^T0N ANT) LOVtS PBILtPP^, 145 

exploits, was to invade the south of France ; a project 
that was no sooner detected, than Napoleon, by in- 
vading Catalonia, gave the Catalan force enough to do 
at home. Still unconvinced, the Duke of Orleans, in 
the summer of 1810, again fished in Spanish waters. 
The regency invited him to a command ; which, not- 
withstanding the opinion of Wellington, he persisted 
in accepting ; but the plan was baffled by the veto of 
Cortes. When the partisans of the Duke of Orleans, 
after the success of the "three days," announced that 
he was the only Bourbon who had never borne arms 
against France, Louis Philippe may have remembered 
the prudence of the British commander's advice. 

According to a tolerably well authenticated anecdote, 
Danton, in the early part of the first Revolution, also 
advised Louis Philippe to act discreetly. While he 
was with the army under Dumouriez, he was in the 
habit of expressing his views with great freedom on 
public measures. Danton sent for him and urged him 
to be more prudent. "In the future," said the great 
leader of the Revolution, "be silent. Return to the 
army ; do your duty ; but do not unnecessarily expose 
your life. You have many years before you. France 
is not fitted for a republic ; it has the habits, the wants, 
and the weaknesses of a monarchy. After one storm 
it will be brought back to that by its vices or by its 
necessities. You will be King! Adieu, young man. 
Remember the prediction of Danton ! " 

With the unsuccessful attempt to obtain a command 
in the Spanish army, the wanderings of him who has 
been called the modern Ulysses may be said to have ter- 
minated. In Sicily tranquillity first dawned upon his 

10 



146 THE REIGH" OE LOWS VBlULlPm, 

agitated career. It was a season of mild repose — a 
blush of light between the storms. His mother, his 
sister, and his wife were at his side ; children were 
born unto him ; public affairs ceased to harass or de- 
press him ; he sought and found happiness at the fam- 
ilj hearth, where Heaven provides it for the meanest. 
In the midst of the profound calm there fell a thun- 
derbolt, l^apoleon was beaten ; Louis XYHI. was 
restored to the throne of France. Louis Philippe 
heard the news, and started for Paris that very moment. 

Marvelous vicissitudes of life ! The man who had 
been refused his bed of straw at a monastery, reached 
the French metropolis, and, scarcely taking time for 
refreshment, hurried to the Palais Koyal to set foot 
again in his magnificent home. His heart beating 
high, his soul pierced with a hundred conflicting 
sensations that expressed themselves in visible tears, the 
restored heir paced the well-known galleries and vis- 
ited the well-remembered gardens. The doors of the 
grand staircase chanced to be opened. The visitor in- 
voluntarily entered, but was stopped by a porter still 
wearing the imperial livery, who said that strangers 
were not allowed in the private apartments. Louis 
Philippe, overcome with emotion, fell upon his knees, 
and in his bewilderment kissed the lowest step of the 
staircase. He was recognized, and admitted. 

Louis XYin. and Charles X. may be said to have 
represented the dry sticks of Bourbonism ; the sap of 
the race was gone, the rich blood of Louis Quatorze 
had ceased to circulate. Whatever was chivalric in 
the family, whatever heroic, whatever superb, what- 
soever could engage the admiration and secure the 



LOUIS XVin. AND LOTJIS PHILIPPE. 147 

pride of a people otherwise aggrieved, had departed 
forever; whatever was bigoted, oppressive, ignorant, 
ridiculous, and suicidal, obstinately remained. Louis 
XYIII. was scarcely on the throne, Louis Philippe 
hardly housed in the Palais Koyal, before intrigues 
were on foot in reference to the successor to the throne. 
Intriguers on every side were busy as possible, when the 
astounding announcement was made that the chained 
lion at Elba had burst his bonds, and was advancing, 
with strides sfich as that lion alone could take, rapidly 
on Paris. It was enough. Intrigues were postponed 
for the present. Louis XYIII., as quick as lightning, 
was beyond the frontier. Louis Philippe, accompanied 
by his family, was again at Twickenham. 

"Waterloo again restored the crown to the Bourbons, 
but they were not wise enough to retain it. The first 
proposition made by the House of Peers on behalf of 
the restored crown, was that all who had taken any 
part whatever in the successive revolutions of France 
should be visited with extreme punishment. Louis 
Philippe was in the chamber of Peers when the im- 
politic measure was proposed. He protested against 
it loudly and indignantly, and at his instigation the 
obnoxious motion was rejected without a division. 
Louis XYIII., considerably disgusted, forbade the 
princes of the blood to ajDpear in the chamber of the 
Peers unless summoned by special authority. The 
Duke of Orleans retired into comparative seclusion, 
and revenged himself upon the court by entering his 
eldest son as a student in one of the public colleges as 
a simple citizen. "I perceive," says Louis XYIII. in 
his own memoirs, and with touching imbecility, " that 



148 THE REIGN OE LOUIS PHILLIPPE* 

althougli Louis Philippe does not stir, he advanceg. 
How must I manage to prevent a man from walking 
who appears as if he did not take a step ? It is a 
problem which remains for me to solve, and I should 
be glad not to leave it for solution to my successors." 
Poor old gentleman! The problem was too difficult 
both for himself and the brother who succeeded him. 

Eetiring to Neuilly, he spent his time in the educa- 
tion of his children, the cultivation and improvement 
of his vast estates, and, doubtless, in the careful 
nurture of a public interest. Knowing the unpopu- 
larity of Louis XYIII. and his successor, he adroitly 
availed himself of the preference of public opinion, 
which turned instinctively toward him. He was re- 
served in his attitude, a courtier of the king, and, 
above all, expressed himself only in half sentences, 
but in his omissions allowing a glimpse to be obtained 
of a secret disdain for the court, and favorable remi- 
niscences for all that breathed of the Revolution. He 
associated himself even, by a skillful flattery, with the 
regrets and glories of the army, — choosing his mili- 
tary household among the young generals of ISTapoleon. 
His intimate society was among the writers and 
orators of liberty. He was irreproachable in appear 
ance toward the court, and gracious and attractive 
toward the rising opposition. This opposition seemed 
to spring up in the very palace of Orleans, where the 
Revolution had its birth. At last came the Kevolu- 
tion of the Barricades (in 1830) and the once homeless 
and needy wanderer was elevated to the throne of 
France. 

The new monarchy established in France was ex 



LOWS PHILIPPE ON THE THEOI!fE. 149 

posed to the most imminent dangers from the republi- 
cans on the one hand and the partizans of the exiled 
family on the other. The republican party was in- 
finitely the most formidable, because, in the capital, at 
least, there was a much greater mass to whom its opin- 
ions and incentives were likely to be agreeable. There 
was a spirit of extraordinary earnestness in its mem- 
bers ; several attempts were made to assassinate the' 
king ; but all were unsuccessful. 

But there were many elements of discord to be over- 
come before the throne could enjoy tranquillity. The 
republican party deemed itself betrayed by the elec- 
tion of a king, and several who had consented to that 
arrangement were satisfied with the limited extension 
of popular privileges gained by the Eevolution. A 
great number of idle, discontented young men were 
anxious to involve Europe in a war of opinion, and 
they denounced the king as a traitor to the principles 
which had placed him on the throne, because he re- 
fused to grant their insane wishes. The total sepa- 
ration of the church from the state alienated the 
French clergy ; while the royalists, recovered from 
their first terror, began to entertain hopes of a restora- 
tion. Thus surrounded by difiiculties and dangers, 
Louis Philippe was far from finding his throne a bed 
of roses ; but he evinced firmness and talent adequate 
to the occasion, and he was zealously supported by the 
middle classes, who looked upon him as their guarantee 
for constitutional freedom and assured tranquillity. 

An insurrection of the Carlists, as the partisans of 
the exiled family were called, in the south of France, 
injured the cause it was designed to serve. It was 



150 THE EETGH OF LOVIS PHILLIPPE. 

easily suppressed, but the government learned that the 
Duchess de Berri, (whose son, the Duke of Bourdeaux, 
was grandson of Charles X.,) had made arrangements 
for landing^in La Yendee, and heading the royalists in 
the province. Such preparations were made, that 
when the Duchess landed, she found her partisans 
disheartened, and their movements so closely watched, 
that it was scarcely possible for them to assemble any 
force. Still she resolved to persevere ; but the enter- 
prise degenerated into a series of isolated and insig- 
nificant attacks, made by small bodies in a strong 
country, and the proceedings of the royalists, con- 
sequently, resembled those of the brigands. The 
Duchess continued five months in the country, though 
actively pursued by the military and police ; she was 
at length betrayed by one of her associates, and made 
prisoner. The government of Louis Philippe treated 
the royal captive with great clemency. She had not 
been long in prison when it was discovered that she 
was about to become a mother, having been privately 
married some time before her arrest. This unfortunate 
circumstance threw such an air of ridicule over the 
entire enterprise, that the royalists abandoned all fur- 
ther efforts against the government. 

The Eevolution of July, 1830, had driven one dy- 
nasty from the throne of France, and seated another 
in its place. It had thus prevented a return to the 
despotic government of the seventeenth century, and 
preserved the little share of liberty which the Bourbons, 
on their restoration in 1814, had granted with a reluc- 
tant and sparing hand, to the French nation. Their 
overthrow was consequent upon their endeavors to 



LOtJI^ PHILIPPE AGAINST WAR. ISl 

deprive the people of the freedom which was then 
unwillingly yielded to them. 

The government of Louis Philippe gradually ac- 
quired, by its continued success in keeping down do- 
mestic factions, and maintaining the friendly relations 
of France with foreign powers, a high reputation for 
wisdom and firmness. The peace of Europe was sup- 
posed to be in the French king's hands ; and men con- 
gratulated themselves that so vast and important a 
trust should be grasped by a monarch so able and so 
averse to war. The resources of France by the mere 
force of its internal and external tranquillity rapidly 
developed themselves, and the enterprise of the French 
people appeared to be at length directed to other and 
higher objects than triumphs, ruinous alike to the 
victor and vanquished, in the fields of strife. What- 
ever may have been the errors of the reign of Louis 
Philippe, and they were many, his eflforts, whether from 
policy or from principle, to maintain the peace of Eu- 
rope, entitle him to lasting admiration. His reply to 
a deputation from Belgium, inviting the Duke of I^e- 
mours, his second son, to ascend the Belgian throne, 
was worthy of his reputation. "The thirst of conquest, 
(said he,) or the honor of seeing a diadem placed on 
the brow of my son, shall not induce me to expose my 
country to a repetition of those calamities which war 
entails ; nor could any advantages France might reap 
from my acceptance of the honor you propose, compen- 
sate for those evils. The examples of Louis XIY. and of 
E"apoleon are sufiicient to save me from the fatal temp- 
tation of erecting tnrones for my sons ; and I prefer the 
maintenance of peace to all the brilliancy of victories, 



152 TfliJ KEIGK OJ" LOUIS I'HlLLtPl'E. 

unless, indeed, in a war in which the defense of her 
standai-d would call forth the sons of France." 

These sentiments were still more emphatically ad 
vanced by Louis Philippe, in reply to an address for- 
warded to him by the English and American societies 
for the preservation of Peace. "I am happy, (said he,) 
to receive these addresses, and feel particularly grati- 
fied to find that our American friends should do justice 
to the pains I have taken to maintain the general peace 
of Europe. There is no advantage in making war, 
even when a nation has attained the object for which 
it has fought, because, ultimately, the losses are always 
greater than the gains. I have ever professed that 
principle. When I was in America, forty years ago, I 
was often asked to propose toasts at public dinners, 
and I almost invariably expressed the wish that uni- 
versal and permanent peace should exist among all 
nations. I was then exiled from my country, and 
my anxious desire was that it should enjoy peace and 
happiness. This is what caused me to adopt that salu- 
tary precept. I could not then foresee that I should 
be called upon one day to exert my influence and act 
myself in favor of that great cause. May the Almighty 
accord me the maintenance of peace. War appears to 
me a malediction ; and war in Europe, between civil- 
ized nations, I regard as an absurdity ; if the smaller 
states desire it we should prevent them ; and as peace 
between great powers becomes daily more consolidated, 
I hope, if I live a few years longer, that a general war 
in Europe will have become impossible." 

However much we may doubt the full sincerity of 
Louis Philippe, in these observations, there can be no 



THE QUEEN. 153 

doubt tlie views were admirable ; and they presented 
a curious reverse to the old spectacle of kings playing 
at the game of war in spite of their subjects — for while 
in France there were many restless and discontented 
persons infatuated with a desire for war, the king him- 
self was reluctant. That Louis Philippe thought 
himself better able to accomplish his aim — the per- 
petuation of his dynasty and the aggrandizement of 
his family — through the tortuous and noisome w^ays 
of diplomacy, than by warfare, is quite certain, and it 
is equally certain that he relied much upon his reputa- 
tion, as a friend of peace, for the stability of his throne. 
Louis Philippe, in the character of a husband and 
father, merited the highest admiration ; and he was 
particularly fortunate in his family relations. By his 
side, looking like the guardian angel of his family, 
was his wife, a modest, amiable, clever woman, who 
contributed not a little to the popularity of his family. 
The queen, a daughter of a king, married the Duke of 
Orleans, when he was a fugitive and an exile. At that 
time the house of Bourbon had seemingly no prospect 
of re-ascending the throne of France. It had fallen 
from too great a height to hope to rise again from such 
a depth. The marriage of the Duke of Orleans and 
his wife was founded wholly upon mutual esteem and 
affection. The Duchess of Orleans loved her husband, 
at first because he was unhappy, because he was poor, 
a wanderer and an exile, exposed even to the re- 
proaches of those relations among whom he emigrated. 
She loved him, next, for the fortitude with which he 
supported his ill-fortune, and his patience. These 
two persons were admirably qualified to be always 

' 7* 



154: THE KEIGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPB. 

supporting eacli other a little above their position, what 
ever that position might be. Once upon the throne, 
the Duchess of Orleans acted and thought like a queen. 
She had been consulted bj her husband in all the im- 
portant speculations and affairs of their life — she was 
equally consulted in the management of political con- 
cerns. But she was a queen, as she had been the 
mother of a family, without ostentation. In the bitter- 
ness of French political dissensions, no whisper of 
calumny was ever heard against the queen ; and one 
who could pass triumphantly through such an ordeal 
had nothing more to dread from human investigation. 
She was a kind and affectionate mother, a sincere be- 
liever in the Christian religion, and devout in the per- 
formance of its duties. Her charity was only bounded 
by her means to relieve the distressed. 

The king's sister, the Princess Adelaide, formed a 
part of the royal family, and was said to be one of the 
most devoted sisters a brother ever possessed. In the 
qualities of head and heart, all who knew her awarded 
to her the meed of praise. Religious, charitable, ex- 
emplary, she was one of those who adorn high places 
by higher virtues. Madame Adelaide was four years 
younger than her brother, and had resided with him 
from the time of his return to Europe, after his exile 
in America. From that period she was his friend and 
adviser in all matters of delicacy and difficulty. She 
was thought to possess a more masculine mind than 
Louis Philippe himself It is a well-known fact that 
Louia XYIII. hated and rather despised the Duke of 
Orleans, but he somewhat feared Madame Adelaide. 
The astute monarch was aware of the courage, sagacity, 



MADAME ADELAIDE. 155 

constancy and steadiness .of this remarkable woman. 
Separated from her counsels, he thought the Duke of 
Orleans was not dangerous ; but under her influence 
and guidance, he felt that he had to deal with a name 
and pretensions which she could render powerful. 

During the last years of the reign of Charles X., no 
one in France more clearly saw the doom of the elder 
branch of the Bourbons than Madame Adelaide. 
When, at length, the Eevolution was successful, and 
the triumph of the "three days" certain and assured, 
she it was who induced her brother to accept the 
crown, and while she lived she was his principal ad- 
viser, and most trusted counselor. ]^or was this won- 
derful. From the period when they were first driven 
from France, he had perpetually corresponded or been 
in conference with her, and had always found her 
judgment sure, and her intelligence and tact unsur- 
passable in difficult conjunctures. Together they left 
France, agitated and revolutionized, their father one 
of the first victims ; together they closed, in Spain, the 
eyes of a dying mother ; together they mourned, in 
London and Malta, over the couches of their departed 
brothers, Montpensier aud Beaujolais ; together they 
shared, a second time, exile frmn France; together 
they returned thither in 1817. And was it, therefore, 
extraordinary, that a prince of a cold and reserved na- 
ture should fly to one whom he had so often found 
true, trustworthy, and full of resources under the most 
difficult and trying circumstances? Though managing 
her immense property — for she, with Louis Philippe, 
possessed between them, all the fortunes of their 
father — with commendable carefulness and economy, 



156 THE KETGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

yet she was by no means so parsimonious as the king, 
and remonstrated with him frequently on the small 
allowance made to his children. She relieved them 
from many embarrassments, and on one occasion paid 
debts to the amount of $2,000,000 for one of them. 
She died in 1847. 

Louis Philippe had eight children, six of whom 
survived him. They were — Ferdinand, Duke of 
Orleans, born September 3, 1810 ; Louisa Marie, 
born April 3, 1812 ; Marie Christine, born April 12, 
1813 ; Louis, Duke of Nemours, born October 25, 
1814 ; Marie Clementina, born June 3, 1817 ; Francis, 
Prince of Joinville, born August 14, 1818 ; Henry, 
Duke of Aumale, born January 16, 1822 ; and Antoine, 
Duke of Montpensier, born July 31, 1824. 

The Duke of Orleans — who was destined, (according 
to appearances, which human pride seldom condescends 
to imagine may be fallacious,) to wear, one day, the 
most brilliant crown in the world — was remarkably 
handsome and prepossessing in his appearance. Like 
all the other children of Louis Philippe, he was thor- 
oughly educated, and it was to the admirable care of 
his father that the heir to the throne, as well as his 
brothers and sisters, formed not only the most intelli- 
gent but really the most popular royal family in 
Europe. While the grasping and selfish policy of 
Louis Philippe gained him many enemies, all but two 
or three of his family were favored with the affections 
of the French people. 

In 1836, the Duke of Orleans, accompanied by his 
brother, the Duke of JSTemours, visited Eastern Europe, 
III the hope of obtaining a wife fron^ the royal famJiieg 



A PKINCE IN SEARCH OF A WIFE. 157 

of Russia or Austria. Louis Philippe was eager to 
secure matrimonial alliances for his children from 
among the established monarchies of Europe. Thiers, 
the prime minister, was required to learn the views of 
those courts, without incurring the humiliation of a di- 
rect refusal. Had he possessed the moral courage, the 
elevated soul, which ought particularly to character- 
ize those who fill so important an office as the one he 
held, he would have given the rojal family the only- 
counsel which ought to have been acted upon — he would 
have represented to it that to seek alliances with those 
inimical to the Revolution which elevated it to power, 
was a gratuitous degradation of itself — that a Preach- 
woman, the daughter of some considerable citizen, 
would be a better guarantee of the nation's support 
than a princess of foreign and hostile blood — that 'Nsl- 
poleon, after an alliance with the royal family of Aus- 
tria, in the eyes of the world morally abdicated his 
throne, for it dispelled the belief that he felt himself 
superior to the greatest kings, needing to have nothing 
to do with, nothing in common with, and nothing to 
borrow from the old European monarchies. From 
Russia, Louis Philippe was given to understand he 
had nothing to expect for his son. His thoughts were 
then directed to an archduchess of Austria, and the 
Duke of Orleans was sent to Yienna. But the Aus- 
trian government had not forgotten Maria Antoinette, 
and Maria Louisa. They were not forgetful of the 
various attempts that had been made to assassinate 
Louis Philippe. They thought it quite out of the ques- 
tion for an Austrian princess to form an alliance that 
might lead her to the guillotine, or to be subject to ride 



158 THE BEIGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

in a carriage, liable, at almost any moment, to be 
pierced with bullets. The Duke of Orleans returned 
to Paris, a bachelor. A less haughtj alliance was then 
contemplated. May 30, 1839, he married Helena, a 
princess of one of the petty German monarchies. The 
marriage was not a brilliant one ; it had neither the 
prestige of a high monarchical alliance, nor the heroic 
significance of a national and popular choice ; but 
after the insulting refusals of the sovereign families, 
the Duke of Orleans, perhaps, thought himself lucky 
in not being refused by an obscure and indigent Ger« 
man princess. Two sons were born to him — the first 
on the 24:th of August, 1838, created Count of Paris ; 
the second, born in 1840, was called the Duke of Char- 
tres. Unfortunately the Duke of Orleans lost his life 
on the 13th of July, 1842. This much lamented prince 
was returning from Neuilly, when the horses of his 
carriage took fright, and he, in attempting to jump out, 
was thrown upon his head and killed. He was the 
most popular of Louis Philippe's sons. The Duke of 
Nemours, the second son of the king — the proposed 
regent of France, should Louis Philippe die before the 
Count of Paris attained his majority — was, perhaps, 
the least popular of all the royal family. He married a 
daughter of the Duke of Saxe-Gotha, a cousin of 
Prince Albert the consort of the Queen of England. 
The Prince of Joinville married a princess of Brazil ; 
the Duke of Auraale, a daughter of the Sicilian Prince 
of Salerno ; Montpensier, the youngest son, married 
Louisa, the sister of Isabella, Queen of Spain. All 
these marriages were fruitful in progeny, so that should 
France ever desire the restoration of the Orleans 



THE PRINCESS MARIE. 159 

family, there will be no lack of heirs to avail themselves 
of the invitation. 

The marriage of the Duke of Montpensier created a 
tremendous excitement throughout Europe. Isabella, 
the Queen of Spain, it was feared, would die childless, 
and in that case leave the throne to Montpensier's wife : 
so it was thought to be more than possible that the 
crowns of France and Spain, as in the case of Castile 
and Arragon, would eventually descend upon one 
brow. Yet all these princely alliances, Louis Philippe 
afterward found, were less influential in fixing his 
family upon the throne of France, than would have 
been the marriage of his sons with the daughters of 
French citizens. 

Louisa Marie, the eldest daughter of Louis Philippe, 
was married to Leopold, King of the Belgians. His 
first wife was the Princess Charlotte, heir apparent 
to the throne of England, whose early death cast a 
gloom over the English nation. Marie Christine, the 
second daughter of Louis Philippe, married Duke 
Alexander of Wurtemburg. She died of consumption 
soon after the birth of a son, her only child, who lived 
thereafter in the family of Louis Philippe. She had 
much love for the fine arts, and excelled in sculpture. 
She fitted up a studio in the palace of the Tuileries, in 
which she spent a great portion of her time with a 
sculptor's chisel in her hands. Among her statues was 
one of Joan of Arc, on horseback. The horse is a yerj 
fine Norman one, calmly and vigorously placed ; the 
young warrior, armed cap-a-pie, holds in her hand that 
terrible sword which she has just used for the first 
time. The expression of her face is remarkable, and 



160 THE EEIGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

could only have been conceived by a mind filled with 
the tenderest and noblest feelings. Joan of Arc, lean- 
ing from her saddle, is represented as having just 
slain an Englishman, whose blood is flowing at her 
feet. The sternness of the warrior has disappeared, 
and the innocent young shepherdess is seen under 
her cuirass. The sword nearly falls from her trembling 
hand ; astonishment, mingled with pity and alarm, is 
seen on her lovely countenance. It is not she who has 
killed the man : it is her sword, swayed by some power 
she could not control or resist. Another statue chiseled 
h^^ the Princess Marie, was jDlaced, after her death, at 
the tomb of her brother, the Duke of Orleans. In the 
pursuit of her favorite art, the princess did not spare 
her self-love, and she would take pleasure in relating, 
that, more than once, she had sent anonymous works 
to the public exhibitions, and that the public had pas- 
sed coldly before these first attempts, and not only the 
public, who seldom flatter, but also the courtiers, who 
always flatter. She would tell also of the just severity 
of the criticisms upon her, for unlike the greater part of 
her companions, who incessantly attack criticism, the 
Princess Marie paid deference to it, saying that trath 
was not so painful to hear as might be supposed. And 
with how much enjoyment would she repeat, that at 
one exhibition she had sent an anonymous painting, 
much valued by her, and when she passed before 
the despised work, and stopped complacently to look 
at it, a flatterer, who accompanied her, said, "Ah, 
princess, you who understand such matters, how can 
you stop before such baboons ? " 

Such was the family of Louis Philippe. His peculiar 



GUIZOT. Ib'l 

province seemed to be, to bring up, instruct, and en- 
rich his children. His sons were all educated at col- 
lege, among other young men of their age. They 
pursued the same studies, contended for the same 
prizes, and of these prizes they had their share, but 
not without great difficulty and hard study. His chil- 
dren were the objects of Louis Philippe's enjoyment 
and activity. His errors chiefly arose from pursuing 
their aggrandizement more zealously than he did the 
welfare of the French people. 

The most distinguished man connected with the 
government of Louis Philippe, was Francis Peter Wil- 
liam Guizot. He was born of Protestant parents, in 
1789. His father was a lawyer of some eminence, who, 
on account of his principles during the Revolution, was 
compelled to flee from the country. He was found in 
a remote province, by an agent of the police, who, 
knowing and respecting his character, offered to allow 
him to escape, being undesirous to contribute in any- 
wise to the death of so good a man. The worthy advo- 
cate, instinctively apprehending that in thus saving his 
own life he would infallibly endanger the life of his 
generous and humble friend, did not an instant hesi- 
tate to relinquish the last hope left to him. He was 
apprehended and beheaded. Madame Guizot, the 
nother of the future distinguished minister of France, 
was thus left a widow, with two sons, of whom the eld- 
est, the remarkable subject of this brief sketch, was 
entering, at the period of the death of his father, into 
his seventh year. From the death of her husband and 
their parent, commenced, for this admirable woman, 

the austere practice of those painful duties which 
11 



162 THE EETGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

devolved upon her. ^Notwithstanding the interest with 
which the sad fate of her husband invested her in their 
native town, she tore herself awaj from friends and 
relatives, and proceeded to Geneva, where she felt she 
could give her children a more solid and serious educa- 
tion than the distracted condition of France permitted 
at home. 

In 1805, young Guizot went to Paris, and began the 
study of the law. Here the gravity and severity of his 
character, with poverty, and want of friends, kept 
him long in obscurity. But he finally procured a pre- 
ceptorship in a family of great respectability, where he 
was treated according to his singular merits, and 
brought into connection with influential society. In 
this situation he became acquainted with Mademoiselle 
Pauline de Meulan, a lady of excellent attainments 
and character, and of a distinguished family, but im- 
poverished by the Revolution. She at that time con- 
ducted a periodical with great success; but being seized 
with a serious illness, she feared she should be obliged 
to suspend, if not to discontinue altogether, her labors, 
for lack of the necessary assistance. While these sad 
thoughts were revolving in her mind, she received, one 
morning, in an unknown hand, a letter, telling her to 
keep her mind at rest, for that if the zeal and industry 
of another could suffice, she might rely upon the reg- 
ular aid of a substitute. The offer of the unknown 
contributor, who was none other than Guizot, was ac- 
cepted ; and it was not till she had completely recov- 
ered that Mademoiselle de Meulan was aware of the 
name of her benefactor. This good-natured act was 
not without its uses to Guizot. His humane and liberal 



MARRIAGE OF GUIZOT. 163 

conduct procured him friends and admirers; and when, 
in the following year, (1809) he published a " Diction- 
ary of Synonyms," the literary world, propitiated by 
his kindness to a suffering authoress, were civilly dis- 
posed toward him. The work on synonyms was rap- 
idly followed by a volume of "Lives of the French 
Poets." Guizot had now embraced literature rather 
than law for a profession. He published a French 
translation of Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman 
Empire, enriched with valuable and erudite notes, indi- 
cating depth of scholarship and historical research. 
The friendship, founded on his kindness to Pauline de 
Meulan, ripened into love, and five years after, (1812) 
they were married. Pauline was several years his 
senior. She was a superior woman, of a grave and 
reflective character, who struggled to make all who 
came into contact with her purer and more perfect. 
As was to be expected, she acquired a great ascend- 
ancy over the steady and sensible young man who had 
chosen her for a wife. The demure and hard-working 
student had many angularities to round off — many 
little defects of manner and gesture to modify. Mad- 
ame Guizot became his monitress ; and thus early 
habituated to prudence and self-control, these virtues 
became a part of his nature. Soon after his marriage 
he was appointed to the professorship of history in the 
Paris University. In 1814, on the restoration of the 
Bourbons, he was appointed to a government office, 
but Bonaparte's return from Elba sent him back to his 
professorship. From this period until the year 1820 
his life was mostly literary, though he was occasionally 
in the employ of the government. Between 1820 and 



164: THE EEIGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

1822, he published several political pamphlets, which 
had great influence on public opinion. In these pro- 
ducts of a powerful and reflective mind, there was 
neither flattery of the people, nor abuse of authority. 
They appeared to be the views of a calm, conscientious 
man, taking his stand between anarchy and despotism. 
Guizot had, by these political treatises, become a sort 
of power in politics. Still, he did not abandon his seri- 
ous historical studies, and he published twenty-seven 
volumes of memoirs relating to English history. These 
were followed by twenty-eight volumes relating to the 
history of France. He also translated several of the 
tragedies of Shakspeare into French. In 1827, Guizot 
lost his flrst wife, but afterward married, and again 
became a widower. 

During the ministry of Polignac, Guizot was elected 
to the Chamber of Deputies, and wrote the famous pro- 
test of the Chambers against the despotic ordinances 
of Charles X. Upon the accession of Louis Philippe, 
he was chosen as a member of the cabinet, and, except 
when employed as minister to England, he may be said 
to have been a leading member of every administra- 
tion until the overthrow of that monarch. His only 
rival in the public estimation was Thiers. An 
able but unscrupulous and dishonest diplomatist, he 
bent the whole energy of his genius to the promotion 
of the projects of Louis Philippe for the aggrandize- 
ment of his family. The chief, and almost only merit, 
that can be accorded to the career of Guizot, while 
minister, was his desire to preserve the peace of Europe. 
His tricky and dishonest course, while in oflice, has 
tended greatly to destroy the high position to which his 
ability, as a historian, would entitle him. 



PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF GUIZOl. 165 

The personal appearance and manner of Guizot are 
thus graphically described by an English author: — 
"Below the middle stature, somewhat square-built, and 
of an aspect always grave, if not severe, with a proud 
and piercing eye, Guizot strikes you at first sight as a 
man of thoughtful and reflective habits, and of an 
energy subdued rather than extinguished by severe 
study. Approach him nearer, and you will perceive 
that he is more spare in flesh, more somber in appear- 
ance, more livid in look, than you had supposed at a 
distance. His features, when excited, assume a disa- 
greeable aspect — his lips become contracted, his eyes 
appear deeper sunk in their cavernous orbits, and his 
whole appearance gives token of a person of a restless 
and melancholy, as well as of a meditative disposition. 
There is no gayety in his look or manner. He does not 
laugh nor joke with his next neighbor on the bench of 
ministers, and appears altogether absorbed in public 
affairs or in his own reflections. He exhibits, on his 
entrance to the Chamber, the impassibility of a profes- 
sor or college tutor. He crosses his arms, inclines his 
head on his breast, and attentively listens to the dis- 
cussion. But if the orator at the tribune attacks the 
man or his system, Guizot becomes restless and excited, 
rises from his seat, interrupts the speaker, strikes his 
desk with his wooden paper-knife, and, giving a loud 
contradiction to the member in possession of the 
house, asks to be heard in reply. 

"At the tribune, notwithstanding his diminutive stat- 
ure, his appearance is imposing, for he has an expres- 
sive countenance — there is much latent fire in his 
4eep-set eye, and notwithstanding bis dictatorial ^jid 



166 THE REIGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

pedantical air, there is a certain dignity in his maLiiof. 
His voice is full and sonorous, but it is neither very 
varied in tone nor very flexible. It is dry, sententious, 
clear, dogmatical, luminous, lacking the suppleness and 
vivacity of Tliiers, and genial flow, pathos, richness, 
and grace. But its tone, it must be admitted, is gen- 
erally philosophical and elevated, and he exhibits 
great power of expression, and often much adroitness 
in hitting the humor of the Chamber. 1:^0 man seizes 
on a leading popular idea with greater address, or 
more artfully and elaborately produces it suited to the 
taste of a majority. Though he seldom breaks out into 
those happy bursts which enthrall and captivate the 
auditor and hurry him along against his will, yet he is 
almost always copious and fertile, and shows his supe- 
riority to the mass, as a scholar and a man of general 
information. Guizot is always self-reliant, and nearly 
always cool and self-possessed. The most frivolous 
ani oft-repeated interruptions cannot turn him from 
the exposition and development of a favorite idea." 

But there was a statesman in France even more in- 
fluential, and held in higher estimation by the French, 
than Guizot. This was Louis Adolphe Thiers. He 
was born at Marseilles, April 26, 1Y9T. His father 
was a locksmith and small iron-dealer, and his mother 
a daughter of a bankrupt merchant, of a poor but 
proud family. By the influence of some relations, 
Adolphe was admitted a free scholar in the Imperial 
Lyceum of Marseilles, where he acquitted himself 
creditably until 1815, when he removed to Aix, to 
enter upon the study of law. Here he formed a lasting 
friendship with Mignet the historian, who was his 



THIERS. 167 

fellow-student. In this situation, Thiers added history, 
philosophy, and belles-lettres, to his law studies, and 
imbibed radical notions. Even then he showed traces 
of the demagogue — declaimed against the restoration, 
and made himself suspected by the police and hated 
by the faculty of the college. Eather than confer the 
prize of eloquence upon him, his instructors adjourned 
the trial a year, when, producing the same piece, he 
was outdone, much to their satisfaction, by an anony- 
mous oration sent from Paris ; but what was their 
subsequent mortification to find that this also was a 
production of their mischievous little Jacobin, who had 
taken this pleasant method of entrapping them. As a 
lawyer in Aix, Thiers could get no employment, and 
went with Mignet to Paris. They took lodgings in the 
garret of a miserable house in one of the meanest 
streets of the capital. A common chest of drawers, of 
the cheapest wood, a bed to match, two rush-bottom 
chairs, a little rickety nut-wood table, incapable of 
standing steadily on its legs, and a white calico cur- 
tain, formed the inventory of the furniture which ac- 
commodated the future prime minister of the greatest 
country in Europe, and the future historian of the 
Revolution. After some time spent in poverty and 
restlessness, Thiers obtained a situation among the 
editors of an influential journal. His bold and vigor- 
ous articles soon excited general attention ; and the 
young politician, in despite of poverty, found himself 
drawn into the best circles of Paris. He was, how- 
ever, exceedingly diligent, and made the utmost im- 
provement of the opportunities placed at his disposal. 
Through the assistance of a generous friend, he became 



168 THE BETGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

proprietor of one-half of the journal he conducted. He 
rose at five in the morning, and from that time until 
noon, applied himself to his editorial duties, and made 
his paper so popular that its receipts were increased 
five fold. After having thus devoted those hours to 
labor which most Parisians were wont to consume in 
sleep and idleness, he went into society, where he 
sought, not only to extend his connections, but to col- 
lect information, which he well knew how to turn to 
account. 

If Thiers were an ordinary man he would, doubtless, 
have been abundantly satisfied by his eminent success 
as a newspaper writer. But he sought for more perma- 
nent fame, and in 1823, published the first volume of 
a History of the French Ee volution. So doubtful were 
the booksellers of his ability as a historian, notwith- 
standing his success as a journalist, that the work was 
published under the name of Felix Bodir, a writer 
then popular in France. It created a gre t sens; tioii, 
and soon acquired a party value altogether indepen- 
dent of its literary merit. The clearness, vigor, and 
beauty of the young author's style — the art and won- 
derful tact with which he dramatized circumstances — 
added an inexpressible charm to his development of 
the revolutionary movement. Each volume appeared 
with increasing popularity. It was followed, after an 
interval of some years, by his brilliant, though not 
always reliable. History of the Consulate and Empire. 

After the Kevolution of 1830, Thiers was elected to 
the Chamber of Deputies, where he soon distinguished 
himself His most remarkable parliamentary efibrt, 
ff^^ one In regard to th^ finances, H^ was choi^eii tp 



THIERS m THE aHU£BER OF DEl>UTIES. 16? 

write the report from the committee on that siiLject ; 
but the debate in the Chamber having been suddenly 
and unexpectedly brought to a close one evening, the 
report was in order for the next morning. To write a 
report so voluminous in a single night, was a mechani- 
cal impossibility, to say nothing of the mental part of 
the process. What was to be done? Such reports are 
always prepared in writing and read to the Chamber, 
for this obvious reason, that although necessarily the 
composition of an individual member of the committee, 
they are in fact supposed to proceed from, and do really 
possess the sanction of all the members of the commit- 
tee, as well as of that individual member who is more 
especially charged with their composition. Thiers, 
however, pressed by the exigency of the occasion, went 
down to the Chamber, and apologizing for being com- 
pelled to depart from the usage of the house, by the 
unexpectedly early period at which the report was 
called for, in giving an unwritten report, he proceeded 
at once to the subject, aided only by a few numerical 
memorandas, and delivered a speech of four hours' 
duration, in which he discussed and exhausted every 
topic bearing on the matter of the finances. He 
plunged, with ready and voluble fluency, into financial, 
political, and administrative details, intermingled with 
bursts of picturesque oratory, with which he astonished 
and confounded the Chamber. History, politics, public 
economy, questions of national security and progress, 
were passed in succession before his wondering hearers, 
like scenes exhibited in a magic lantern. As usual, no 
topic was omitted — every question was marshaled in 
its proper place and order, but the house, nevertheless, 

8 



If 6 THifi KEiGN OF LOtJlS I'HllLll'i'^. 

exhibited no signs of fatigue; they listened with una- 
bated interest to the end. On several occasions in 
pauses of his speech, after he had continued speaking 
for nearly three hours, they invited him to rest, not from 
fatigue on their part, but from apprehension of his phys- 
ical powers being exhausted. He proceeded, however, 
to the close without suspension. 

In 1832, Thiers was appointed a member of the cabi- 
net, and signalized his advent to power by the arrest 
of the Duchess de Berri and the exposure of her frailty, 
which obliterated any sentiment of chivalrous compas- 
sion which the struggle of a brave mother, for what 
she believed to be the rights of her son, might naturally 
have produced. From that period he took a promi 
nent position in the administration of affairs until the 
overthrow of his royal master. 

In physical appearance, Adolphe Thiers is extremely 
unprepossessing. He has neither figure, nor shape, nor 
mien, to win favor. His voice is thin, harsh, and 
reedy — his aspect sinister, deceitful and tricky — a 
sardonic smile plays about his insincere and mocking 
mouth, and at first view all spectators are disposed to 
distrust so ill-favored a little dwarf The first time he 
gets up to speak or rather squeak, there is a universal 
desire to put him down with a universal laugh. But let 
the little pigmy be fairly heard, and he greets his audi- 
tors with such pleasant, light, lively, voluble talk, inter- 
spersed with historical remarks, personal anecdotes, 
ingenious reflections, all conveyed in such clear, concise 
and incomparable language, that they forget his ugli- 
ness, his impudence and insincerity. They listen, and 
as EouBseau said, in one of his most eloquent letters, 



THE WAR IN ALGIERS. 171 

in "listening tliej are undone." He fixes his huge 
spectacles, (which entirely hide his eyes,) upon his 
audience, and addresses them in a "how d'ye do" vein 
of eloquence, and soon captivates their attention just 
as if he was addressing each one personally. There is 
no warmth, no apostrophe, no rhetoric, no figure of 
speech, no pathos, but a wonderful tumbling forth of 
ideas rushing out like children from a country school 
house — but without any effort, any aim at originality, 
any desire to excite surprise. It is cold, sensible, irre- 
sistible. Those who know him well, do not suppose he 
can be in earnest about any matter which does not in- 
timately concern his own interests. The truth is that 
in his innermost heart he laughs at all theories, other 
than the one which can raise Adolphe Thiers to power, 
and maintain him there. He is more restless and rash 
than Guizot, but has the same perseverance and im- 
perturbable determination to occupy the foremost place 
of power — the same love of eminence, not for its 
wealth, its luxury, or the other consequences of emi- 
nence, but for its own sake; for its activity, for its 
responsibility, and because it satisfies the cravings of 
a spirit purely and naturally ambitious of managing 
great events. 

E'otwithstanding the pacific tendency of Louis Phil- 
ippe's reign, the war in Algiers, begun by Charles X., 
was continued by him. Having taken possession of 
Algiers, it was thought dishonorable for the French to 
abandon it ; while to occupy it, was to be in continual 
warfare with the natives. Another reason, probably, 
had great weight in the decision of Louis Philippe's 
cabinet, in regard to the continuation of the war. It 



J 73 THE REIGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

afforded congenial occupation to the most restless, and 
turbulent, portion of the French, who might otherwise 
have periled the pea ce of Europe. The occupation of the 
new possession, however, was a constant source of em- 
bari-assment, and occasioned a continual and enormous 
drain upon the treasury. The intractable natives of 
Algiers, it was found, were not reducible to method ; 
and European colonists could not be induced to settle 
among them. At least the French, who understand 
the sword better than the olive-branch, and parade 
more than utility, could make nothing of their acquisi- 
tion. E"ominally masters of Algiers, they really only 
possessed those portions occupied by their garrisons. 
The neighboring Moors and Arabs gave them constant 
employment, making frequent attacks upon the French 
posts, while the French sacked and burnt their villages 
in retaliation. Instead of dealing with the Arabs on 
principles of conciliation, and nursing the infant col- 
ony with money, goods, markets and colonists, the 
conquerors assumed a contrary policy. The most ac- 
tive and powerful chief arrayed against them, was the 
celebrated Abd-el-Kader, Emir of Mascara, a province 
lying along the foot of the lesser Atlas mountains. 

The public life of Abd-el-Kader, (who was born 
in 1806,) commenced with the conquest of Algiers by 
the French in 1830. Chosen Emir of the tribes ar- 
rayed in opposition to French domination, he con- 
trived to rapidly extend his influence still more and 
more widely among the neighboring tribes, until he 
became the head of a powerful confederacy of bellige- 
rent Arabs. Thenceforward, for seventeen years, the 
Emir kept up an almost constant warfare against the 



l-aS J^EENCfl ANl) THE ARABS. If S 

French. The Arabs, whose rude and savage love of 
independence is the redeeming trait of their character, 
and whose religious fanaticism in the hour of defeat 
arouses them to fresh exertions, were unanimous in 
their determination never to yield to the French. The 
latter gained victory after victory without advantage. 
The Arabs were able to flourish where the French could 
not exist. Their burning summers, their rugged and 
pathless country, were allies that no treachery could 
deprive them of. Their destitution of military sup- 
plies, without which no European army can perform 
the most ordinary operations, did not affect their con- 
stant power of annoyance, or diminish their opportu- 
nities of harassing and surrounding their opponents' 
position. They regarded Abd-el-Kader — who is de- 
scended from one of the most ancient Arabian families, 
as the gallant defender of their faith, and the heroic 
chief* of a holy war, in which light their contest with 
the French was universally regarded. Pillaging, burn- 
ing, and massacring were the order of the day on both 
sides. The following example of the atrocities com- 
mitted by the French, is enough to justify any cruelty 
of which the Arabs may have been guilty. Among 
the French officers, in the early part of 1845, was a 
Colonel Pelissier, who, on one occasion, drove a large 
number of Arabs, belonging to the tribe of Ouled 
Riah, into a large cavern, in the mountains to which 
they were accustomed to retreat, and^ the entrance of 
which they had strongly fortified. 

After having surrounded the caverns, some fagots 
were lighted and thrown by the French troops before 
the entrance. After this demonstration, which was 



174: THS EETGN OF LOtJiS PHILLIP^E. 

made to convince the Arabs that the French had the 
power, if thej pleased, of suffocating them in their 
hiding-place, the colonel threw in letters offering to 
them life and liberty if they would surrender their 
arms and their horses. At first they refused, but sub- 
sequently they replied that they would consent if the 
French troops would withdraw. This condition was 
considered inadmissible, and more burning fagots were 
thrown. A great tumult now began, and it was known 
afterward that it arose from a discussion as to whether 
there should be a surrender or not. The party opposed 
to a surrender carried their point, and a few of the 
minority made their escape. Colonel Pelissier, profes- 
sing a wish to spare the lives of those who remained in 
the cavern, sent some Arabs to them to exhort them to 
surrender. They refused, and some women, who did 
not partake of the savage fanaticism of the majority, 
attempted to fly, but their husbands and relations fired 
upon them to prevent their escape from the martyrdom 
which they had themselves resolved to suffer. Colonel 
Pelissier then suspended the throwing of the burning 
fagots, and sent a French ofiicer to hold a parley with 
the Ouled Eiahs, but his messenger was received with 
a discharge of fire-arms, and could not perform his 
mission. This state of things continued till the next 
night, when the fire was renewed and rendered intense. 
During this time the cries of the unhappy wretches 
who were being suffocated, were dreadful, and then 
nothing was heard but the crackling of the fagots. 
This silence spoke volumes. The troops entered and 
found eight hundred dead bodies. About one hundred 
and fifty, who still breathed, were brought into the 



ABD-EL-KADER. 175 

fresh air, but a portion of them died afterward. An 
officer under Pelissier's command, in giving the hide- 
ous details of tbis atrocious massacre, said: "Six 
hundred bodies have already been taken out of the 
cave, without counting those that were heaped one 
above the other, nor counting the infants at the breast, 
who were almost entirely concealed by their mothers' 
clothes. The colonel expressed the horror which he 
felt at this terrible result. He is afraid, principally, 
of the attacks of the journals, who will, no doubt, criti- 
cise so deplorable an act. One thing certain, is, that 
it has made the whole country submit. We have been 
obliged to remove our camp from the neighborhood of 
the caves on account of the infectious smell, and we 
have abandoned the place to the ravens and vultures, 
who have been flying for some days around the grotto, 
and which we can see from our encampment carrying 
away huge pieces of human flesh." 

Abd-el-Kader, like another Antaeus, rose with fresh 
vigor after each blow, and renewed the contest with 
increased spirit. For a large portion of the seventeen 
years that Abd-el-Kader maintained the war, the 
French had an army of over 100,000 men in Algiers, 
the support of which cost 1200,000,000. In 1847^ 
Abd-el-Kader was finally, through alleged treachery 
and bad faith on the part of the French, taken prisoner 
and confined at Amboise, in the west of France, where 
he lingered in captivity until 1852. 

In person, Abd-el-Kader is very small ; his face is 
long and deadly pale; his large black eyes are soft 
and languishing ; his mouth small and delicate ; his 
nose rather aquiline ; his beard thin, but jet black. 



176 THE KEIGN OF LOtIS ^HlLLlPtE. 

His dre3s was always distinguished by the most studied 
simplicity, having no gold or embroidery on any part 
of it. His whole appearance is dignified and prepos- 
sessing. His disposition is humane, and many acts of 
generosity are told of him. His habits are correct, 
according to the Arab standard, as he is guiltless of 
any infidelity toward his wives, four of whom accom- 
panied him to his French prison. In regard to these 
wives, the French relate an amusing anecdote. Abd- 
el-Kader, it is said, lately employed a competent per- 
son to give his children lessons in writing. The teacher 
fulfilled his task in the most exemplary manner, treat- 
ing his little pupils with the utmost kindness. The 
brave father, being very grateful, bethought him of 
making the teacher a present as a mark of his esteem, 
and, after much cogitation, concluded to give, him one 
of his Arabian wives! The Frenchman in vain en- 
deavored to explain that he already had a wife, and 
that European law only allowed him one. Abd-el- 
Kader thought the writing-master wished to be cere- 
monious, and persisted most perseveringly in his ofi^r, 
stating, in a courteous manner, that he would still have 
three wives left — enough, in the name^ of Allah, for a 
poor prisoner. The matter ended and the writing- 
master was rescued from this ludicrous dilemma, by his 
wife — the original, European one — carrying him off 
from the chief's presence, and prohibiting him from 
ever entering there again. 

]S"ot alone in the early stages of his captivity, but 
ever since he became their neighbor, the ladies of Am- 
boise, with continuous kindness, have exhibited their 
benevolent feelings both to him and to the females of 



THE CAPTIVE EMIK. 177 

his suite and their children. Delicacies from their 
kitchens, and little useful presents have been sent to 
the pc^r captives, v^^ho have received these attentions 
in the spirit' in which thej were given. One instance 
of considerateness gave particular gratification to the 
Emir. A ladj sent him a magnificent plant, a native 
of his own valleys of the Atlas. It is related that the 
Emir on receiving it burst into tears. He sent back 
the expression of his gratitude in the following charac- 
teristically poetical words, — "Too poor to offer you in 
return any thing worthy of your acceptance, not pos- 
sessing even a flower that I can call mine, I will pray 
to Allah that for the love of his servant he will one 
day bestow Paradise upon you." 

The large, mournful, gazelle eyes, of Abd el-Kader, 
his calm, beautiful mouth, and his rich, jet-black beard, 
have gained many a heart, both male and female ; but 
his misfortunes are too interesting, too romantic, too 
jpiqucmt^ to be lightly parted with, and the French will 
probably keep the lion still caged as an object on which' 
to exercise their sensibilities. Occasionally the Emir 
appears on his balcony, accompanied by the ladies of 
his suite. One of them is said to be still young, and 
very handsome. This is the report of a young French- 
man, whose patient curiosity was rewarded on a happy 
occasion, when the vailed fair one withdrew the envi- 
ous screen of her beauties one day, imagining that she 
was unobserved, that she might the better gaze upon 
the fine river, and feel the soft breeze of an evening 
in June upon her cheek. Occasionally some of the 
children of the captives may be seen playing round 
their parents, as they stand motionless, looking fronn 
1^ 



178 THE KEIGN OF LOUIS PHILLIPPB. 

their hifrb position. These little captives are of all 
shades, from white to ebony hue, and are bj no means 
so silent or so still as their elders, for they clamor and 
climb and twist about upon the parapets in a manner 
quite startling to those w'ho are watching them from 
below. 

Some time ago the bishop of Algiers, passing through 
Amboise, stopped to pay a visit to the Emir ; he ex- 
horted him to resignation — alas ! what else could he 
preach? — and received the same answer as the illus- 
trious prisoner always gives to those who seek to con- 
sole him, — "I gave myself up on the sole condition 
that I should be conducted to Alexandria, in order to 
go to Mecca, where I desired to finish my days. The 
promise was given me : I ask for nothing further, and 
I rely on the justice of Allah." 



CHAPTEE Yl, 

LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

"Whil-n outraged and indignant France overthrew 
Charles X., by the three days of July, and drove that 
monarch — sworn to destroy the liberties of the peo- 
ple — into exile, it conferred the throne, in its headlong 
haste and infatuation, upon Louis Philippe. The throes 
of Prance are always felt in Italy, which has long 
groaned under the triple oppression of the Pope, Aus- 
tria, and the petty princes ; and, no sooner was Charles 
X. driven from Paris by a nation that loathed him, 
than groups of Italian patriots were in arms, burning 
to free their country from the shackles that enthralled 
it. The two sons of Hortense, now grown to manhood, 
had been waiting for an occasion to try their fortunes, 
and, encouraged by some of the Italian insurgents, 
they prepared to stake their all in the cause of Italian 
freedom. They believed that a brilliant career awaited 
them, not unworthy their great uncle, who had found a 
grave in St. Helena. When about to join the friends 
of freedom at Bologna, against Austria, Prince Louis 
Napoleon and his brother, addressed the following 
laconic note to their mother, who was unacquainted 
with their plans : 

"Mother, — Your affection will comprehend our 
feelings. We have entered into engageinents, whicli 



180 LOriS NAPOLEON. 

we cannot fail to perform, and the name which we 
bear constrains us to succor the unfortunate who call 
to us." 

Their afflicted mother soon after hastened to meet 
them, eager to withdraw her children, whom she loved 
with tenderness and cherished with pride, from that 
bloody and unequal struggle. " Feel proud, madam, 
(said General Armandi, an Italian patriot, to Queen 
Hortense, when he perceived her maternal anguish, 
and shared all her apprehensions,) feel proud at being 
the mother of such sons. The whole of their conduct 
in these melancholy circumstances, is a series of noble 
and generous sentiments, worthy of their name." Hor- 
tense, who was a woman of great penetration, endeav- 
ored in vain to dissuade her sons from their rash and 
perilous enterprise. The princes, listening only to 
their warlike ardor, armed and led forward a few 
determined patriots. Several brilliant actions were 
fought with much bravery and address, against greatly 
superior bodies of Austrians. They defeated the Papal 
forces on several occasions. Great rejoicings prevailed 
in the camp of the insurgents : alarm and confusion 
filled the Yatican. Both were of short duration. The 
crooked and double-tongued policy of the French and 
Austrian rulers gained the upper hand. The two 
princes were finally conquered and banished from the 
soil of Italy. At Faenga the elder of the two brothers 
was attacked with an internal inflammation and ex- 
pired, March 27, 1831, in the arms of the younger. 
Louis I^apoleon was also sick from fatigue, anxiety and 
affliction. The Austrians were in possession of the 
town where he was concealed, and it re(^uired all the 



HORTENSE AND HEE SON IN PAEIS. 181 

fortitude and ingenuity of the Duchess of St. Leu, (as 
Queen Ilortense was called after her husband abdicated 
the throne of Holland,) to save the only son who now 
remained to her. She caused a report to be imme- 
diately circulated, that the prince had taken refuge in 
Greece ; and although lodging in the immediate neigh- 
borhood of the commander of the Austrian forces, she 
succeeded, in the midst of the most harassing anxie- 
ties, in concealing her patient from the observation of 
all. By disguising herself as a domestic, and, what is 
still more difficult for a woman, concealing her grief 
of heart, she conducted him, under the protection of an 
English passport, and not without running great risks, 
through a large - part of Italy ; and, in order to take 
him to a safe asylum in Switzerland, she ventured to 
brave the law of proscription, which excluded her from 
the soil of France. " At length, (said she,) I arrived at 
the barriers of Paris, and I felt a sort of pride in show- 
ing that capital, in its best points of view, to my son, 
who could no longer remember it. From the windows 
of my apartment I looked upon the Boulevards ; and, 
in my present isolation, I felt a sort of bitter joy in 
being able once more to behold that city which I was 
about to leave, probably for ever, without speaking to 
any one, or being at all distracted from the impression 
which that view made upon my mind." Thus it was 
that that young man, w^hose birth had been announced 
by salvos of artillery throughout the vast extent of the 
empire, from Hamburgh to Eome, and from the Pyr- 
enees to the Danube, returned to Paris, after fifteen 
years of exile, a proscribed fugitive. A new impulse 
was given to the indomitable ambition of Louis 



182 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

Napoleon, by his mother's showing him from the win 
dows of her apartments, the scenes where she had re- 
ceived homage as a queen, and enjoyed an intimacy 
with the Emperor that few others could boast. Hor- 
tense announced in a letter to Louis Philippe, her ar- 
rival in Paris with her son. The king, notwithstand- 
ing his family had received many favors from the Em- 
peror through the influence of Hortense,* gave her a 
peremptory order to quit the kingdom, and she pro- 
ceeded, with her son to England. There the prince 
employed his time in completing his education, and 
visiting, with the most scrupulous attention, every es* 
tablishment of industry or science. Hortense and her 
son returned to Switzerland in August, 1831. A depu 
tation of Polish noblemen, who had been sent from "War- 
saw, visited Louis l^apoleon, and urged him to place 
himself at the head of the armies of Poland. The letter 
of the Polish chief contained the following passage : 

"To whom could the direction of our enterprise be 
confided with greater hope of success than to the 
nephew of him who was the greatest captain of all ages. 
Should a young Bonaparte appear upon our battle- 
fields, waving the tri-colored standard for victory, what 
a moral effect would be produced, the consequences of 
which would be incalculable to our oppressed country. 
Go, then, young hero, the hope of Poland, and confide 
to the waves, that will obey at the whisper of thy great 
name, the future Caesar, and what is more, the destinies 

* The Emperor, through the solicitation of Hortense, permitted Louis 
PhiHppe's mother and aunt, (the Duchess of Bourbon, mother of the 
Duke of Enghein,) to remain in France, and granted to the former a 
pension of $80,000 a year, and to the latter $40,000. It was from this 
liberality that Louis Philippe was supported while an exile. These 
ladies wrote many letters to Queen Hortense, expressive of their ^-aiituda 
for her beneficent influence with the Emperor in their behalf. 



LOUIS NAPOLEON AND THE POLES. 183 

of liberty, and you will gather the acknowledgments 
of your brethren in arms, and the admiration of the 
universe." 

This offer to a young man of twenty-two, however 
much it may have been influenced by the name he 
bore, certainly would not have been made unless the 
ability displayed by him in the Italian insurrection had 
entitled him to the confidence of the Polish generals. 
But the misfortunes of the Italian movement had 
rendered Louis Napoleon somewhat more distrustful 
of success, than he had been the previous year, and 
he declined to accept the proposal. This refusal was 
in accordance with the earnest entreaties of Queen 
Hortense, who, however frivolous she may have been 
in her youth, while intoxicated with the splendors and 
gayeties of a court, showed herself, throughout her 
exile, to be a prudent, sensible, affectionate, and noble- 
hearted mother. Louis ISTapoleon, restless and rash, 
was hardly contented with his inactivity, and even 
contemplated the recall of his answer to the Polish 
deputation, but the calamities that rapidly overspread 
that unhappy country, and its gallant patriots, put an 
end to his schemes. In the mean time his purse was 
always open to the unfortunate Poles. All the fugi- 
tives that passed through Constance, his Swiss home, 
were quartered at his expense, and departed from 
thence loaded with presents. All his large income 
was spent on them. Among other things, he presented 
the Polish committee a writing-case that had belonged 
to the Emperor, which was sold for $4000. The com- 
mittee, as an expression of their grat-tude, wrote him 
the following letter : 



184 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

"We should be happy were we permitted to follow 
the impulse of our hearts, and to preserve, as a sacred 
relic, an object which formerly belonged to the great 
man, whose death the Poles, (who of late enjoyed the 
glory to belong to his phalanx,) deplore with the utmost 
grief Five hundred of the Polish refugees, warmed 
by the generous solicitude of his heart for their mis- 
fortunes, have the honor to offer their sentiments of the 
profound est respect which they feel for the illustrious 
descendant of the Emperor Napoleon." 

In 1833, Louis Napoleon published a remarkable 
pamphlet, entitled, " Political and Military Considera- 
tions upon the Swiss Confederacy." It gave evidence 
of thoughtfulness and of a fine talent for composition. 
It created a considerable excitement in the diplomatic 
world, and in the minds of military men. The consti- 
tutions of the different cantons were examined, ana- 
lyzed and described with astonishing sagacity for so 
young an author. It abounded in superior views and 
reflections, worthy of a thorough diplomatist. The 
prince proposed a line of defense, which, if adopted, 
would render the Swiss republic almost invulnerable 
to the hostilities of foreign powers. As a mark of 
their estimation of the pamphlet, the rights of citizen- 
ship were conferred on him by the canton of Thurgo- 
via. He returned thanks, (May 15, 1833,) for this 
mark of esteem, in the following letter : 

"I accept the rights of a citizen of Thurgovia with 
the greatest pleasure. I am glad that a new tie now 
binds me to that country, which for sixteen years has 
extended to us the most generous hospitality. My 
position as an exile, renders me doubly sensible to the 
interest you show me. As a Frenchman and as a 
Bonaparte, I am proud of being the citizen of a free 
country. My mother desires me to tell you how much 
she is aiJected by your kindness to me." 



THE MANUAL OF ARTILLERY. 185 

Two years afterward, Prince Napoleon published a 
work on artillery, for the use of the Swiss troops, as a 
reward for which, the government appointed him a 
captain of artillery. In acknowledging this mark of 
esteem and confidence, he wrote as follows : 

"I have just received the letter which informs me 
that the executive council of Berne have conferred the 
title of captain of artillery on me, and hasten to ex- 
press to you my gratitude for this nomination. My 
country, or rather the French government, repulses me 
because I am the nephew of Napoleon ; you are more 
just. I am proud of being numbered among the de- 
fenders of a state in which the sovereignty of the people 
is considered as the basis of the constitution, and where 
every citizen is ready to sacrifice himself for the liberty 
and independence of his country." 

This work was the result of three years of laborious 
research, serious meditation, and an immense number 
of practical experiments. The most competent authori- 
ties gave this work the highest praise, and pronounced 
Louis Napoleon to be one of the most competent mili- 
tary tacticians of the age. The Swiss, French and 
English journals, almost unanimously pronounced it 
the best treatise on artillery existing in Europe. Al- 
though nominally prepared for the use of the Swiss 
troops, the real object of its composition, undoubtedly 
v^as to win the attention of the French officers, espe- 
cially those who regarded with pride the splendid 
achievements of the Emperor. In this Louis Napoleon 
was eminently successful, for many who had scarcely 
thought of his existence at all, began to reflect upon 
his position as a Bonaparte, and upon what it might 
be, should a popular convulsion overthrow the throne 
of Louis Philippe. 



186 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

In 1835, Donna Maria, Queen of Portugal, having 
lost her husband, the Duke of Leuchtenberg, (son of 
Eugene Beauharnois,) the question of providing her 
with another husband was agitated among the Portu- 
guese. Some persons of distinction opened a negotia- 
tion with Louis Napoleon, on the subject of marrying 
the royal widow. But as such a step would destroy 
his prospects of becoming ruler of France, he per- 
emptorily declined the proffered honor. A prince 
without power and an exile without a country, he 
seems to have had implicit faith that he would ulti- 
mately become the successor of the Emperor Napoleon, 
on the imperial throne of France ; and he was unwil- 
ling to barter off his hopes, however dim their realiza- 
tion might seem, for any present dignity, however 
brilliant. The following letter, published by him, in 
regard to his rumored intention of becoming the con- 
sort of the Portuguese Queen, is clearly characterized 
by this feeling : 

" Arenemberg, December 14th, 1835. 

"Several of the public journals have announced the 
news of my departure for Portugal, as a suitor for the 
hand of Queen Donna Maria. However flattering to 
me, might be the supposition of a union with a young, 
beautiful, and virtuous queen, the widow of a cousin 
who was dear to me, it is my duty to disclaim such a 
report, for which there is no foundation whatever.^ I 
owe it to myself moreover to add, that notwithstanding 
the lively interest which I feel in the destinies of a 
nation which has just recovered its liberties, I would 
refuse the honor of sharing the throne of Portugal, 
should I be deemed worthy of such an honor. 

" The noble conduct of my father, who abdicated in 
1810, because he could not combine the interests of 
France with those of Holland, has never departed from 



LAFAYETTE AND LOUIS NAPOLEON. 187 

my mind. My father has proved to me by his illustri- 
ous example, how much one's country is j^referable to 
a foreign throne. I feel, in fact, that having been ac- 
customed from my youth to cherish my country above 
every thing else, I could not prefer any thing to French 
interests. 

"Persuaded that the great name which I bear shall 
not always constitute a title of exclusion in the eyes of 
my fellow-countrymen, because it recalls to their mind 
fifteen years of glory, I wait with calmness, in a free 
and hospitable country, till the people recall into their 
minds those who were exiled in 1815, by 1,200,000 
foreigners. The hope of one day serving France as a 
citizen and a soldier, fortifies my mind, and in my 
eyes, is of- more value than the whole world. 

" Accept, &c., 
"InTapoleon Louis JSTapoleon.""^ 

As early as 1833, Louis l!^apoleon had been in con- 
sultation with Lafayette in regard to French affairs. 
The latter was dissatisfied with Louis Philippe, and 
regretted having placed him on the throne. "But 
France is not republican, (he added ;) we considered 
the Duke of Heichstadt as a prisoner, and there was 
no one but Louis Philippe that we could place at the 
head of the nation." He thought that the government 
of Louis Philippe could not stand, and that the name 
of Bonaparte being the most popular one in France, 
Louis IS'apoleon might grasp the imperial eagles 
and bear them successfully to Paris. After the la- 
mented death of Lafayette, Armand Carral, the 

* At this period Louis Napoleon seems to have iDeen unsettled in 
regard to the name he should assume. Although his baptismal namo 
■was Charles Louis N"apoleon, his letters are indiscriminately signed 
"Napoleon Bonaparte," "Napoleon Louis Bonaparte," and "Napoleon 
Louis Napoleon." Since his accession to the Presidency of France ha 
has adopted the name of " Louis Napoleon." 



188 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

acknowledged leader of the republican party, continued 
the intercourse with the Prince. "His political and 
military works, (said Carral in regard to Louis Na- 
poleon,) prove that he has a noble character and a 
strong mind. His name is the greatest of modern 
times. If he understands the new interests of France, 
if he is willing to forget his claim to imperial rights, 
and think only of the sovereignty of the people, he 
may yet be called to play a great part." These words 
were reported to Louis Napoleon, and while they in- 
flamed his ambition, strengthened his determination to 
court the republican party, whose assistance was essen- 
tial to the overthrow of Louis Philippe. He sought 
diligently to obtain the confidence of the republicans, 
and to win the affections of the army. By means of 
trusty agents he sounded the dispositions of the troops 
and their officers, entered into communication with 
important personages, and obtained information as to 
the position of parties. The result of his investigation 
was neither quite favorable nor quite discouraging. 
There were germs of dissatisfaction in the army; no 
doubt it was attached by its recollections to the Em- 
peror; some of the commanding officers promised 
their swords, but only after the first victory should be 
won. The persons of note to whom overtures had been 
made, showed themselves well-disposed rather than 
hostile. Louis Philippe was evidently unpopular, and 
doubtless it was from policy rather than from any par- 
tiality to the young Bonaparte, that they wished, with- 
out committing themselves to his cause, to be in a 
situation to make the most of circumstances, should 
Louis Philippe be overthrown. 



REVOLUTIONAKY PROJECTS. 189 

In the month of July, 1836, Louis J^apoleon went 
to Baden, in order to be near the French frontier. He 
had resolved to make a decisive blow, though what the 
blow should be, or when it should be struck, were not 
matters of certainty. lie relied more upon the hap- 
pening of some favorable exigency than upon any pre- 
arranged plan. The magic of his name, however, was 
his chief reliance. His favorite idea was that of 
throwing himself into some large and strongly forti- 
fied town, and there, by the influence of his name, and 
the boldness of his movement, to rally around him the 
inhabitants and the garrison ; then to hasten, by forced 
marches, to Paris, winning on his way both troops and 
people. After much thought, Strasbourg appeared to 
him the most favorable city for the execution of his 
designs, if such his crude hopes rather than purposes, 
may be called. An immense arsenal, with military 
resources of every kind in abundance, a garrison of 
ten thousand men, and a population greatly dissatisfied 
with the established government, made this an impor- 
tant place for the ground-work of his' operations. The 
news of a revolution at Strasbourg — thus he rea- 
soned — accomplished by the nephew of the Emperor, 
in the name of liberty and the sovereignty of the peo- 
ple, would influence all minds. Once master of the 
city, a national guard would immediately be organized, 
which would be sufiicient to man the fortress. The 
same day on which this great revolution should be 
accomplished, every thing would be arranged for the 
march to Paris, on the morrow, with ten thousand 
men, as many camp followers, one hundred pieces of 
caimon, and a supply of arms for the population o» 



190 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

tlie route. The example of Strasbourg would carry 
with it all Alsace and its garrisons. The line of march 
would be through ^Yosges, Lorraine, and Champagne. 
What grand reminiscences would be awakened ! What 
resources secured bj the patriotism of these provinces ! 
Metz would obey the impulse received from Stras- 
bourg. ISTancj, and her garrisons would be surprised, 
on the fourth day, before the government would have 
time to act ! The national cause, as Prince Louis Na- 
poleon seemed to regard his scheme, would be strength- 
ened every day! Proclamations made to excite the 
sympathies of the people would penetrate everywhere; 
they would spread over the north, the west, the middle 
and the south of France ! Besangon, Lyons, Grenoble, 
would feel the electrifying effect of this grand revolu- 
tion ! The government would be powerless ! It would 
be unable to retard, much less to arrest, the progress 
of a movement begun with such energy! To this 
army of citizens and soldiers, enthusiastic for liberty 
and glory, it could only oppose regiments shaken by 
the contagious example of revolt! Paris and France 
would acknowledge Louis ISTapoleon as their liberator, 
and by so doing enable him to become their tyrant! 
So ran the reveries of the rash and audacious dreamer. 
His presence in France, and the magic of the name 
he bore, were to accomplish all! Strasbourg and all 
France must yield to him! "If the present govern- 
ment, (said he to the friends to whom he communi- 
cated his projects and his hopes,) has committed suffi- 
cient faults to make another revolution desirable; if 
the government of E'apoleon has left sufficiently deep 
roots in the nation, I have but to appear before the 



LOFIS NAPOLEON AT STEASBOUKG. 191 

a/mj and people, to remind them of their former pros- 
perity and glory, of their present humiliation and 
grievances, and they will join me. France wishes for 
national institutions as representatives of their rights ; 
for a man or a family to represent her interests. She 
wishes for the popular principles of the republic, ac- 
companied by stability — for the national dignity, the 
order, the internal prosperity, but not the conquests of 
the empire ; she might desire the external alliance of 
the restoration, but what can she wish or hope for from 
the present government? My ambition is to appear 
with the most popular and glorious banners ; to rally 
all that is generous and noble in every party around 
me; to restore the national dignity without war, liberty 
without anarchy, stability without despotism. To suc- 
ceed in this plan I must be acknowledged and assisted 
by the people, for from the people alone proceed rea- 
son and justice." It is by no means certain that the 
prince argued unwisely. 

At Baden, Louis ISTapoleon became acquainted with 
several young officers, who declared themselves ready 
to join him. One evening, after one of those brilliant 
parties, so customary at fashionable watering places, 
he mounted his horse, and accompanied by a friend, 
soon arrived at Strasbourg. In a room hired for the 
purpose, fifteen officers met that night. When they 
heard that Louis l^apoleon was about to appear before 
them, they exclaimed enthusiastically : "The Emperor's 
nephew shall be welcome ! He has nothing to fear ; 
he has confided in us ; we would defend him at the 
peril of our own lives!" The prince then made his 
appearance : " Gentlemen, (said he,) I have confided 



192 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

in joiir honor ; I have perhaps risked mj life in order 
to see you. I wish to learn from yourselves what are 
your feelings and opinions. If the nation views the 
present state of the country as I do, I think I can be 
useful. The great man is no more, but our cause is 
the same as in his time. The eagle, that sacred em- 
blem, represents, as in 1815, the rights of the people 
and the national glory. I act not from personal ambi- 
tion, therefore tell me if I am wrong, and although 
exile with its cares and sorrows has weighed heavily 
upon me, I will resign myself to living in a foreign 
land, until happier days." "No!" exclaimed the as- 
sembled officers, " you shall not languish in exile ; we 
have long sympathized with you ; we will restore you 
to your country." ^ 

The ardor of the conspirators went on increasing, 
and, had they not possessed resolution and daring of 
their own, there was a woman among them who would 
have set them a bold example. Madame Gordon, the 
daughter of a captain of the imperial guards, and 
brought up in the worship of the Emperor, appeared 
at Strasbourg and Baden as a professional singer. 
Louis E"apoleon became her ardent admirer. She was 
informed of all his projects, and immediately plunged 
into the conspiracy with the characteristic impetuosity 
of female zeal. Young, beautiful, and fascinating, this 
ambitious lady speedily acquired great influence 
among the conspirators, and urged on the development 
of the plot. 

On the 25th of October, 1836, Louis ISTapoleon, who 
nad returned from Baden to Arenemberg, again left 
bis naother uijder the pretext of joining a hunting 



INTEBTIEW WTTH COLONEL VAUDREY. 193 

part J. A rendezvous had been assigned in the grand 
duchy of Baden to some important personages on 
whom he counted. He found no one at the place ap- 
pointed, and after waiting three days, resolved to set 
out for Strasbourg, where he arrived, October 28th. 
The next day he had an interview with Colonel Yau- 
drey, which would have made a man of a more patient 
temperament hesitate. The colonel urged in objection, 
the rashness of the enterprise ; the number of chances 
against it ; the extreme uncertainty of success among 
so many hostile passions, and so many interests prompt 
to take alarm ; and also the impropriety of exposing 
the Emperor's nephew to such great dangers. These 
prudential counsels had the more weight, coming from 
a man full of courage, who had been often proved in 
battle ; but Louis Napoleon thought he had gone too 
far to retreat, and the colonel gave way. The Prince 
then showed him a paper in which he agreed to confer 
an income of |2000 to each of Yaudrey's children, but 
the incorruptible old veteran indignantly tore up the 
document, exclaiming, — "I give my blood, I do not 
sell it!" Colonel Yaudrey was commander of the 
regiment in which the Emperor had made his first 
campaign, and which at a later period, (on his return 
from Elba,) proud of the recollection of this circum- 
stance, welcomed him with transports at Grenoble, and 
formed his escort in his triumphal march to Paris. 

Louis Napoleon found a still more important, al- 
thougli a less distinguished auxiliary, in the person of 
M. de Persigny. With a quick and easy wit, clever, 
energetic and bold, and with a mind full of resources, 
M. de Persigny was at once the directing intelligence 
13 



194 



LOUIS ITAPOLEON. 



and tlie acting agent of the adventures to which he 
had devoted himself. Diplomatic by instinct rather 
than by education, he wove the thread of the conspir- 
acy with consummate ability, and in a manner to leave 
him free to impress it with whatever direction he 
thought best. Somewhat of a flatterer, flattery with 
him was only a means of ruling, and leading the self- 
will and vanity of men, as with a chain of flowers, 
much stronger than a chain of iron. A conspirator by 
disposition and upon calculation, an adventure had 
irresistible attractions for him. Devoid of enthusiasm 
or passion, he enlisted himself rather in the fortunes 
of the man than for the man himself, or his cause. 
Cool and impassible in the face of danger, no peril 
could deter or stop him. With a forethought which 
prepared all the combinations, and a boldness intimi- 
dated by nothing, he was the most active man in the 
conspiracy. 

Other actors, of secondary importance, were grouped 
around these leaders, who risked not only their own 
lives, but the repose of society, in their hazardous ex- 
ploit. Madame Gordon, in the character of a public 
singer at Strasbourg, had drawn many of these around 
her as admirers, and, making their adherence to the 
plot for the elevation of Louis lN"apoleon, the condition 
on which they were to receive her smiles, had involved 
them in the conspiracy. 

The 30th of E"ovember, 1836, was the day fixed for 
the commencement of the insurrection. It was agreed 
that the first thing requisite was to win a considerable 
armed force over to the Prince's side, so that the feel- 
ings of the inhabitants of Strasbourg might not be 



NIGHT BEFOEE THE II^SUEEECTION. 195 

^pressed by the authorities. After some discussion, 
it was decided that the Prince should present himself 
to the 4th regiment of artillery, at the Austerlitz bar- 
racks, and from thence proceed to the Finkmatt bar- 
rack, where the 46th regiment of the line was quartered. 
If these two regiments joined him, all military difficul- 
ties were at once. at an end. The Prince's proclamations 
would be instantly printed and posted up ; the authori- 
ties wo aid be arrested, and it would be impossible to 
put a stop to this popular movement. If, on the other 
hand, the 46th would not join the Prince, those officers 
who were devoted to him would assemble the 3d regi- 
ment of artillery, and the Prince would then have been 
master of a force superior to any that could have been 
opposed to him. 

Rooms were rented in a private house, at a short 
distance 'from the Austerlitz barracks. Thither Louis 
Napoleon repaired on the evening of the 29th of Octo- 
ber. A message was then sent to those officers upon 
whom he could rely. They came, successively, toward 
three o'clock, and his rooms were soon crowded. He 
now recapitulated his plans, and the means he pos- 
sessed of executing them, informed every one of what 
he would be called upon to do in the morning, and 
then read his proclamations aloud. At 6 o'clock in 
the morning Colonel Yaudrey was to repair to the 
Austerlitz barrack. The Prince exclaimed, "My poor 
mother, I have deceived her! She believes that I am 
with my cousin. She must learn from myself what 
may be my fate." He then wrote two hasty letters, in 
one of which he informed his mother of the success of 
his enterprise ; in the other he said, *' I have fallen, 



'-yo LOmS NAPOLEON* 

mother, but in a noble cause. Do not weep ; do not 
blame any one; nothing but my own convictions could 
have induced me to act as I have done"; 1 have been 
influenced by no one ; when I crossed the Rhine I was 
prepared for all." He was evidently moved as he gave 
the letters to one who stood near him, saying, "If I am 
well received by the first regiment before which I pre- 
sent myself, we are certain of success ; therefore let 
the first letter be instantly dispatched to my mother. 
If I fall, send the other ; it will be my farewell." The 
tears started to his eyes as he spoke, but as the sound 
of the trumpet was heard at that moment, he con- 
quered his emotion, and recovered that composure 
which did not desert him during all the events of that 
day. "This is a solemn moment, (said he, as he rose ;) 
we are about commencing a great enterprise; if it suc- 
ceeds, the benedictions of our country will be our re- 
ward ; if it fails, the world will not find words strong 
enough to depict the folly of our attempt ; but we will 
bear that with resignation. "We will remember the 
long sufferings of the Emperor at St. Helena. We 
shall fall in a great cause, and the French nation will 
pity us." 

In the mean time, the soldiers of Colonel Yaudrey's 
regiment, aroused at an unusual hour by the sound of 
the trumpet, hastened down to the court-yard of their 
barracks, anxiously inquiring what had happened. 
They were ordered to stand in two rows on each side 
of the court, so that every man might see all that was 
to take place. The Prince, having been informed th-at 
the regiment was assembled, hastened to the scene of 
action. A movement of curiosity was visible when 



ADDEESS TO THE SOLDIERS. ll^'? 

Louis Napoleon made his appearance. Ke advanced 
toward Colonel Yaudrey, who, putting his hand on his 
sword, exclaimed, "Soldiers, a great revolution is about 
commencing ! You behold here before you the nephew 
of the Emperor Napoleon. He comes to reconquer 
the rights of the people : the people and the army may 
place full dependence upon him. It is around him 
that all who love the glory and the liberty of France 
ought to gather themselves. Soldiers, may the nephew 
of the Emperor count upon you?" 

This speech was received with loud cries of "Yive 
Napoleon ! Yive 1' Empereur ! " When silence was 
restored, Louis Napoleon addressed them as follows : 
" Soldiers ! having resolved to conquer or to die for the 
liberty of the French nation, I was anxious that yours 
should be the first regiment before which I should 
appear, for we are united by strong ties. It was in 
your regiment that my uncle, the Emperor, first served; 
it was with you that he distinguished himself at the 
siege of Toulon ; it was your brave regiment that re- 
ceived him at Grenoble, on his return from the island 
of Elba. Soldiers! new destinies are in store for you! 
To you the glory of commencing a great enterprise! 
your's is the honor of being the first to salute the eagle 
of Austerlitz and of Wagram." Here the Prince seized 
the eagle borne by one of his officers, and, holding it 
up to the regiment, exclaimed, "This is the symbol of 
glory ; may it be also that of liberty ! During fifteen 
years it lead our fathers to victory ; during fifteen 
years it glittered upon every battle-field, it towered 
above every capital of continental Europe. Soldiers, 
rally around this noble banner! I confide it to your 



108 tOtJIS HAPOLEOH. 

honor and to your courage. Let ns marcli together 
against the traitors and the oppressors of our country, 
crying, ' Yive la France ! vive la liberte ! ' " 

This speech was received with acclamations. Many 
of the inhabitants, attracted by the noise, joined them- 
selves, in crowds, to the retinue, and mingled their 
shouts with those of the soldiers. Joy and hope 
beamed on every face. The first steps to be taken 
were the arrest of the civil authorities and the general 
in command of the fortress. While some were dis- 
patched to the residences of the magistrates, Louis 
Napoleon proceeded to the quarters of General Yoirol. 
Approaching him, the Prince said — " General, I come 
to you as a friend. I should be much grieved to raise 
our old tri-colored flag, without having the aid of a 
brave soldier like yourself The garrison is on my 
side — will you not follow me?" The general declin- 
ing to join the movement, was put under arrest. After 
this the troops were set in motion, but owing to an 
error were led in a wrong direction. This created 
much confusion. The officer intrusted with the distri- 
bution of the proclamations, explanatory of the move- 
ment, had failed to perform that duty, and it became 
impossible to restore order, for the people were not 
informed of the object of the insurrection, nor by whom 
it was conducted. As the Prince was about to address 
a large body of troops, he was interrupted by a dis- 
turbance which arose at the other extremity of the 
regiment. A Colonel Taillandier had just arrived, and 
on being told that the Emperor's nephew was there 
with the 4:th regiment, he could not believe such extra- 
ordinary intelligence, and his surprise was so great 



AKIJEST OP LOUIS NAfOLEOlT. 199 

that he preferred attributing it to a vulgar ambition on 
the part of Colonel Yaudrey, rather than to credit 
the movement on behalf of the Prince. "Soldiers! 
(he exclaimed,) yon are deceived! the man who ex- 
cites your enthusiasm can only be an adventurer and 
an impostor." An officer of his staff cried out at the 
same time, "It is not the Emperor's nephew; it is the 
nephew of Colonel Yaudrey; I know him." Absurd 
as was this announcement, it flew like lightning from 
mouth to mouth, and began to change the disposition 
of the regiment, which a moment before had been so 
favorable. Great numbers of the soldiers, believing 
themselves the dupes of an unworthy deception, be- 
came furious. Colonel Taillandier assembled them, 
and caused the gates of the barrack yard to be closed ; 
while, on the other hand, the officers devoted to the 
Prince gave orders to have the drums beaten to bring 
forward the soldiers who had embraced the cause of 
Louis E'apoleon. The space they occupied was so con- 
fined that the regiments became, as it were, confounded 
together, and the tumult was frightful. From moment 
to moment the confusion increased, and the officers of 
the same cause no longer recognized each other, as all 
parties w^ore the same uniform. Muskets were charged, 
and bayonets and sabers flashed in the air, but no blow 
was struck, as each feared to wound a friend. In the 
midst of the confusion Louis ]^apoleon became sepa- 
rated from his adherents, and hurried into the midst of 
those who doubted his identity. There, after barely 
escaping ^the bayonets of the indignant soldiery, he 
was arrested. His friends, finding that any further 
resistance was useless, yielded to the same fate. In 



200 LOtTTS -NTikPOLEOH. 

the mean time the magistrates had been placed under 
arrest, and the two regiments in the other part of the 
town had enthusiastically pronounced in favor of Louis 
Napoleon, and were proceeding to join him, when thej 
heard of his arrest. This intelligence, with the reports 
which were in circulation as to the identity of Louis 
Napoleon, prevented them from acting decisively in 
his behalf To still further embarrass and paralyze the 
friends of the Prince, it was also reported through all 
parts of the city that the insurrection was one in favor 
of the restoration of Charles X. — a movement for 
which they had no sympathy. 

Louis Napoleon was placed as a prisoner in the cita- 
del which, an hour before, he had flattered himself 
with the hope of commanding. General Yoirol treated 
him with much kindness. " Prince, (said he,) when 1 
was your prisoner, I could find none but hard words to 
use toward you : now that you are mine I have none 
but expressions of consolation to offer you." But after- 
ward he was treated with the utmost rigor by a Mon- 
sieur Lebel, one of the creatures of the king. The 
Prince was not even permitted to open his window, to 
breathe the pure air, in a prison that stood in a circle 
of loaded muskets and drawn swords. But this exces- 
sive cruelty was of short duration, for in a few days he 
was removed to Paris. 

As Prince Napoleon had every reason to suppose 
that be would be brought to trial before the house of 
Peers, he busied himself in drawing up his defense, 
which was found unfinished in his prison. It ran thus : 

"Gentlemen: — I do not intend to defend my life! 
I knew that I risked it when I crossed the French 



DEFEJSSE OF LOUIS NAPOLEON. 201 

frontier, but I am anxious to defend mj honor and my 
rights. Yes, gentlemen, my rights ! 

"After the revolution of 1830, I requested per- 
mission to return to France as a private citizen. I 
was repulsed. I desired to be allowed to serve as a 
common soldier. 'No notice was taken of this request. 
I have been treated as a pretender, {aspiraiit) I have 
acted as one ! 

"Do not believe, however, that mine was only the 
paltry ambition to till a throne. I aspired to some- 
thing higher. I wislied to assemble a national Con- 
gross, which, consulting the wishes of each man, 
would have made French laws, without borrowing 
constitutions that are not suited to us, from "other 
countries. The Emperor accomplished his mission ; 
he prepared the nation for liberty, by introducing the 
principle of equality in their customs, and by making 
merit the only means of rising. Every government 
that has succeeded that of the Emperor has been ex- 
clusive ; one rested wholly on the nobility and clergy, 
another on a hourgcoise aristocracy, a third solely on 
the working classes. The government of the Emperor 
rested on the people, as a general on his array. The 
government of Napoleon received the popular sanction 
four times. In 1804, the French nation recognized 
the hereditary rights of the Imperial family by four 
millions of votes. Since that period the nation has 
not been consulted. As the eldest of the Emperor's 
nephews, I was justified in considering myself, not as 
the representative of the empire, (for within twenty 
years many ideas have changed) but as the representa- 
tive of the sovereignty of the nation. I have always 
considered the eagle as the emblem of the rights of 
the people, not of those of a family. 

"Animated by these ideas, and by the justice of my 
cause, I exclaimed, 'Those princes who consider them- 
selves of the Right Divine can find men to die for 
them, in order to re-establish abuses and privileges : 
and must I, whose name recalls so much glory and 
liberty, must I die in exile?' 'JS"©!' answered my 



202 LOmS NAPOLEON. 

brave companions in misfortune, 'we will conquer 
together in the cause of the French nation, or ]3erish 
with jou ! ' Do not suppose that it was my aim to 
imitate the last of the Roman emperors, who was 
raised one day on the bucklers of the soldiery, and 
overthrown on the next. I availed myself of the aid 
of the army in attempting a revolution, as this mode 
of action offered the most chances of success ; and 
besides, I was anxious to avoid the confusion and 
tumult that usually attend on social conflicts. I made 
a great mistake in the execution of my project, but it 
is little to the honor of our old soldiers that their 
hearts did not bound at the sight of the eagle, the 
symbol of their past glory. They once more be- 
lield that banner which they had planted from the 
Tagus to the Moskwa — that banner which they had 
watered with their blood — % ^ -^ they beheld it, 
and they trampled it beneath their feet!!! They told 
me of their new oaths, forgetting that it w^as the 
presence of one million two hundred thousand for- 
eigners w^hich had released them from that they had 
taken to the Imperial banner. A principle that has 
been annulled by force can only be re-established by 
force. I believed that I had a mission to fulfill ; I 
have acted accordingly." 

Contrary to general exj)ectation, instead of bringing 
the Prince to trial, the government secretly determined 
to send him to the United States. " On the evening of 
the ninth of I^ovember," says Louis ]N"apoleon, in a 
letter to his mother, "I was informed that I was to 
be removed to another place of confinement. On 
leaving my room, I found General Yoirol and the 
Prefect waiting for me. They led me to the carriage 
without telling me whither I was to be conducted. 
I insisted on remaining with my companions in mis- 
fortune, but I found that the government had decided 
otherwise. On reaching the hotel of the Prefecture, 



LETTER TO HORTENSE. 203 

I 6aw two post-cliaisep. I was placed in oue, with M. 
Guinatj the commander of the military district of 
the Seine, and Lieutenant Thiboulot ; in the other were 
four non-commissioned officers. I cannot describe the 
pain I felt at learning that I was to be separated from 
my co-accused ; that I was to abandon men who had 
risked their lives for me ; that I w^as not to be allowed 
to explain my ideas, to defend my intentions. The 
two officers who had accompanied me had served in 
the time of the Empire, and were intimately ac- 
quainted with M. Parquin ; I might have imagined 
that I was traveling with friends. At two o'clock 
on the morning of the 11th, we arrived at Paris, and 
alighted at the Prefecture of Police, where I was most 
kindly received by M. Delessert. He told me that you 
had come to France to implore the king's clemency 
in my behalf, and that I w^as to set out in two hours 
for L' Orient, from whence I was to sail for the United 
States." 

Before leaving Paris, Louis ISTapoleon was allowed 
to write the following letter to Queen Hortense : 

"My Dear Mother: — Your tenderness is proved 
by the step you have taken. You thought only of 
the danger in which I was placed, and not of my 
honor, which compelled me to share the fate of my 
companions in misfortune. It gives me the greatest 
pain to be obliged to abandon men whom I have led 
to ruin, when my presence and my testimony might 
have influenced the jury in their favor. I have 
written to the king to entreat him to show mercy 
to them ; it is the only favor I ask. I am about leav- 
ing France for America, but, my dear mother, if you 
do not wish to increase my affliction, do not follow me, 
1 entreat you. 



204 



LOUIS NAPOLEON. 



"Will you see that the prisoners of Strasbourg are 
in want of nothing. Take care of the sons of Colonel 
Vaudrey, who are at Paris, with their mother. I 
should be resigned to my fate if I knew that the lives 
of my companions would be spared ; but to feel that I 
had been the cause of the death of those brave men 
would give me everlasting pain. 

"Farewell, dearest mother. Keturn to Arenemberg. 
Do not attempt to join me in America ; it would make 
me too unhajDpy. Farewell." 

The Prince was so anxious about the men from 
whom he had been separated, that, previous to his de- 
parture, he wrote to several other persons concerning 
them. One of his letters was quoted, at the trial ot 
the prisoners of Strasbourg, by their counsel, who 
exclaimed — "Do you think it proper, do you think it 
generous, thus to expatiate on the faults of the Prince 
in his absence. If, by means of the press, the singular 
language you have held should reach his ear, would he 
not have cause to complain ; would he not exclaim : 
'Your government would not allow me to appear be- 
fore its tribunals ; and now that, contrary to my 
wishes, I have submitted to its orders, now that I 
have left my country, the instruments of the law are 
allowed to calumniate me. It is the object of the 
government to ruin me in the opinion of the French, 
whose confidence and esteem are to me invaluable. 
Let such clemency be revoked ! I will not accept it 
at such a price. Death is a thousand times preferable 
to life with dishonor.' What generous mind could 
misunderstand this noble language? I am happy in 
being able to give France a more favorable opinion of 
Louis Napoleon. He was suddenly remoye^ from 



LETTER TO HIS COUNSEL. 205 

prison. He was taken to Paris, where lie was allowed 
to pass a couple of hours to rest, after the fatigues of 
the journey, and to prepare for a long voyage. How 
did the noble young man employ the time thus allotted 
him ? He could not forget that he had left his com- 
panions under the weight of a terrible accusation. He 
began a letter dated Paris, ]N"ovember 11th, but he 
had not time to conclude it immediately. The latter 
part of the letter bears the date of L' Orient, ISTovem- 
ber 15th, for he would not put his foot on board the 
vessel, which was to take him far from Prance, with- 
out having done all he could to defend those who 
had compromised themselves for him. This letter, 
addressed to Odillon Barrot, ran thus : 

"Sm: — JSTotwithstanding my desire to remain with 
my companions in misfortune, and to share their fate ; 
notwithstanding my protestations on this subject, 
the king, from a kindly motive, doubtless, has or- 
dered that I should be taken to L' Orient, and from 
thence to the United States. Although much touched 
by the king's generosity, I am deeply afflicted at 
leaving my companions, for I believe that my presence 
at the bar, and my testimony would have influenced 
the jury in their favor, and shed light on many im- 
portant circumstances. As I am deprived of the 
consolation of being useful to the men of whose ruin I 
am the cause, I must confide to a lawyer what I am 
not allowed to tell the jury. We are all guilty for 
having taken up arms against the government, but I 
am the most so, for I had long meditated efiecting a 
revolution ; I snatched my companions from an honor- 
able position in society, and induced them to risk all 
the dangers that must always attend a popular com- 
motion. I seduced them by speaking to them of all 
that was most likely to move the heart of French- 
men. They told me of their oaths. I reminded their 



206 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

that in 1815 they had sworn fidelity to !N'apoleon II 
and his dynasty. 

"The government has acted generously toward me. 
It has considered that my being an exile, my love for 
France, and my relationship to the Emperor, were 
excuses for me. 

"Can the jury do otherwise than follow the road 
pointed out by the government ? " 

On the 21st of November, Louis l^apoleon em- 
barked on the frigate which was to bear him to the 
American continent. The captain had sealed orders to 
sail first to Kio de Janeiro, and afterward to proceed 
to ISTew York. The voyage occupied ^ve months, and 
the Prince did not arrive in E'ew York until toward 
the end of April, 1837. During the voyage he wrote 
many letters to his mother, in one of which (dated 
December 14, 1836) the following passage occurs : 

"Two months ago I wished for nothing except never 
again to behold Switzerland ; now, if I were to follow 
my own inclinations, I should have no other wish than 
to find myself again in my little chamber in the midst 
of that fine country, in which I fancy I ought to be 
so happy! Alas! when one has a soul that feels 
deeply, one is destined to pass one's days oppressed 
with the sense of inactivity, or in the struggles of 
painful sensations. When some months ago I went to 
bring home Matilda, on re-entering the park I found a 
tree 'which had been blown down by the tempest, and- 
I said to myself, our marriage will be broken off by 
fate. That which I vaguely guessed has become real- 
ized. Have I then exhausted all the happiness which 
was destined for me ? " 

The lady to whom the Prince makes the above alia- 
sion, was the daughter of Jerome Bonaparte, and was af- 
terward married to a Kussian prince. Her extraordin- 
ary beauty, her manifold graces and accomplishments 



AIJOTKER REVOLTJTIONAEY PLOT. 207 

failj justified the clioice which Louis ISTapoleon had 
made. She was rather small, but perfectly formed. 
Her head was beautifully shaped, and thrown into fine 
relief by her luxuriant brown hair. Her eyes were 
large and sparkling, and the features classically regu- 
lar. The expression of her face was most captivating, 
and revealed an elevation of character that charmed 
at first sight. Her manners were full of spirit and 
elegance. Her voice was clear and ringing. She 
conversed with great fluency and vivacity, and her 
language was well chosen and pointed. When she 
subsequently took up her residence at Paris, she 
became a great favorite in fashionable society. 

It happened by a singular coincidence, that on the 
same day Louis JSTapoleon made his attempt at Stras- 
bourg, some soldiers of a hussar regiment, at Yend6me, 
were forming the plan of a mutiny, the object of 
which was to proclaim a republic. The plot, de- 
nounced before the hour appointed for its execution, 
was easily stifled. It had been conceived by a brigadier 
named Bruyant, a resolute man, and one of no com- 
mon stamp. Being arrested, he escaped from his 
guards, and swam across the Loire. But his accom- 
plices not having been able to imitate his example, he 
was unwilling to escape the fate that awaited them, and 
returned and surrendered himself a prisoner. 

The government of Louis Philippe was in consterna- 
tion. A long series of conspiracies, riots and disorders 
had occurred, in which the unpopularity and weakness 
of the king were displayed in a glaring and dangerous 
manner. Every device was put in practice to cloak 
the important nature of the events. The ministerial 



208 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

journals sneered at the puerility of Louis Is'apoleon's 
enterprise, which thej called a mere hair-brained freak, 
the agents of the government received orders to over- 
look a large number of the guilty ; the authorities re- 
ported that only a small number of soldiers had taken 
part in the movement, and only three subordinate offi- 
cers were deprived of their commissions ; General 
Yoirol was raised to the dignity of a peer of France, 
and thanks were given to the garrison at Strasbourg 
for its fidelity to the dynasty of Louis Philippe ! 

The accomplices of Louis J^apoleon were brought to 
trial while he was on his voyage to the United States. 
Seven only appeared — Colonel Yaudrey, Parquin, De 
Bruc, Laity, De Querelles, De Gricourt, and Madame 
Gordon. The trial was one of extraordinary interest. 
The rank of the accused, most of them being military 
men ; the glorious past days of some ; the youth and 
spirit of the others ; the ardent sympathy in favor of 
the revolt — all conspired to render the spectacle im- 
pressive. The demeanor of the prisoners corresponded 
with the interest they excited. Parquin expressed 
freely the attachment he bore to the memory of the 
Emperor and to his family. Madame Gordon was en- 
dowed with so much beauty and fiery eloquence that 
she won the sympathy of all. Querelles, De Gricourt 
and De Bruc sustained their examination almost with 
exultation. Colonel Yaudrey maintained a firmness 
and dignity becoming his high reputation. But none 
of the prisoners excited stronger interest than Lieuten- 
ant Laity. Ills countenance was serious and earnest. 
In throwing himself into an enterprise in which there 
was nothing but danger on all hands, he had felt that 



TEIAi OF THE PRISONERS AT STRASBOUKG. 209 

he had given pledges to death. Beaten, he refused to 
defend himself, and was only prevailed on to do so by 
being informed how far such a determination was es- 
sential to the safety of his companions in misfortune. 
In the presence of the judges he was calm and indom- 
itable : he expressed himself nobly, without art or 
effort, and concisely like a soldier. "I am a republi- 
can, (said he,) and I followed Louis Napoleon only be- 
cause I found in him democratic opinions." The depo- 
sitions of the witnesses gave occasion to various inci- 
dents that added to the impression produced by the 
whole affair. Colonel Talliandier having related, that 
in arresting Commandant Parquin, he had torn off his 
general's epaulettes, the latter replied — " It is very true 
that he insulted me, and he could do so with impunity : 
I was his prisoner." 

In the city the excitement was continually increas- 
ing. The whole town rung with loudly expressed 
wishes for the acquittal of the prisoners. The senti- 
ments of Lieutenant Laity were vociferously applauded. 
The republicans were eager to have the authority of 
the reigning king weakened — others desired merely 
the humiliation and defeat of the ministry. But all 
agreed in masking the real ground of their desire for 
an acquittal, by appealing to the principle of equity. 
It was injustice, they argued, to punish the accomplices 
of the Prince when he had been sent beyond the reach 
of punishment. At evei^y step the jurors encountered 
symptoms and expressions of feeling that could not but 
have a contagious effect upon them. And when, on 
the 18th of January, 1837, the verdict of acquittal was 

rendered, the building was filled with shouts of 
14 



210 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

exultation. The same enthusiasm prevailed in ti d 
streets. The city of Strasbourg put on the appearance ot 
a holiday, and a sumptuous banquet was given to tne 
released prisoners. The issue of the prosecution struck 
the government with consternation. Louis Philippe was 
particularly mortified by it. The evidence of conspira- 
cies and of implacable animosity which confronted 
him, and which put his life and his throne in hourly 
peril, rendered his position far from enviable. 

When Louis l^apoleon was sent to the United States, 
instead of being tried for high treason, it was generally 
believed that it w^as done upon his pledge not to return 
to Europe within ten years. That Louis Philippe 
should have been at the expense of sending him 
away — to say nothing of this exercise of clemency — • 
without such a guarantee, either written or verbal, it is 
difficult to believe. The fact that his mother went to 
Paris to intercede for him would lead to the belief that 
some conditions must have been attached to his par- 
don. His letter to his mother on his departure clearly 
intimates his expectation of a long absence, and for a 
considerable time after his arrival in the United States, 
he had no thought of returning to the old world. He 
was actually making preparations for an extended tour 
through the Western States, when he received the fol- 
lowing letter from his mother, announcing her dan- 
gerous illness, and the prospect of her speedy death. 

"My Deae Son, — I am about to undergo an opera- 
tion which has become absolutely necessary. In case 
it should not terminate successfully, I send you, in this 
letter, my blessing. We shall meet again — shall we 
not? — in a better world, where, I trust, you will como 
at the end of a long life to rejoin me. Believe me that 



DEATH-BED OF liOiiTEIvSE. 211 

ill quitting this world I leave nothing to regret except 
you, and your tender affection, which has alone given 
it any charms. It will be a consolation to you, my 
dear son, to remember that by your attentions you 
have rendered your mother as happy as her circum- 
stances would permit. You will think of all my affec- 
tion for you and take courage. Believe that the dead 
always have an interest in what they leave below, and 
that, assuredly, we shall all meet again. Dwell on this 
delightful thought : it is too necessary not to be true. 
I press you to my heart, my dear child. I am per- 
fectly calm, and entirely resigned : still, I hope we may 
meet again in this world. May God's will be done. 
" Your affectionate mother, 

" HOETENSE. 
"April 3d, 1837." 

It is des-erving of remark, that in this letter, Hor- 
tense makes no allusion to her son's return, as a step 
which he was at liberty to undertake — a step for 
which, as a mother, she would naturally feel anxious, 
if it could be taken without dishonor or danger. But 
on hearing of the illness of his mother, Louis Napoleon 
immediately embarked for London, and from thence 
went to Switzerland in time to receive the last embrace 
and blessing of his dying mother. A few moments 
before she expired. Queen Hortense stretched out her 
hand to each of the persons of her household : they 
were overwhelmed with sorrow, while she was calm 
and resigned. At the foot of her bed her son was on 
his knees. Dr. Conneau, who had long been attached 
to her person, and whose tender and assiduous care 
had prolonged her life, and alleviated her sufferings, 
watched anxiously the ebbing breath of his illustrious 
and unfortunate patient. Profound silence reigned in 
the chamber in which death was present. The queen 
turned slowly toward her son and the doctor, and said^ 



212 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

with a feeble voice, "You are very unfortunate, m^ 
children ! farewell, Louis ! farewell ! " Her son threw 
himself into her arms ; she pressed him to her heart, 
with a supernatural strength, and again, with fearful 
vehemence, uttered a final " Adieu ^ adieu ^ adieu P 
She fell back exhausted ; her noble figure resumed an 
angelic serenity, and her eyelids closed. Her son 
hung over her ; and, with a voice which he in vain 
attempted to render calm, said, "Mother, do you know 
me? It is your son! — your Louis! — my mother!" 
She made an effort to speak, and to open her eyes; but 
her hands were already cold, and her eyelids paralyzed, 
and she could only make a feeble, almost impercep- 
tible, movement to this earnest appeal. Her natural 
tenderness, so true and so exalted, had already con- 
veyed to her half-expiring heart the voice of her son. 
A feeble motion of the hand which he held assured 
him of the fact, and in an instant after, the last sigh of 
his mother sounded upon his ears. She died on the 
5th of October, 1837. Death gave her a tomb in her 
native land. Her remains were deposited in the vil- 
lage church at Kuel, by the side of those of her mother, 
the Empress Josephine, that noble woman, who was 
neither elated by the grandeur of the imperial throne, 
nor depressed, when, by an iniquitous political divorce, 
she was compelled to descend from it. 

By her will, executed on the 3d of April, 183T, 
Queen Hortense — as she continued to be called long 
after she ceased to reign — bequeathed various legacies 
to friends and persons about her establishment, leav- 
ing, of course, the bulk of her property to her son. It 
concludes as follows ; " I wish that my husband may 



LOTJIS NAPOLEON AT ARENEMBERG. 213 

erect some memorial to mj memory, and that he 
should know that my greatest regret was that I could 
not render him happy. I have no political advice to 
give my son ; I know that he is aware of his position, 
and of all th^ duties which his name imposes upon 
him. I forgive all sovereigns with whom I have had 
relations of friendship, their injustice toward me. I 
forgive all persons for the falsity of the reports which 
they have constantly circulated about me. I forgive 
certain Frenchmen, to whom I have had opportunities 
of being useful, for the calumnies with which they 
have loaded me by way of requital. I forgive those 
who have believed these statements without investiga- 
ting them, and I hope to survive for a little while in the 
memory of my fellow countrymen. I thank all those 
who are around me, as also my servants, for their 
attention, and I hope they will not forget my memory." 
After the death of his mother, Louis E"apoleon con- 
tinued to reside at Arenemberg, where he seemed for 
a time to confine himself to the study of military tac- 
tics and political economy. But in 1838 he induced 
Lieutenant Laity, who had been involved in the Stras- 
bourg affair, to write a pamphlet justifying the attempt 
which was then made to subvert the throne of Louis 
Philippe. His publication was looked upon by the 
government as the manifestation of a new conspiracy, 
and the luckless lieutenant was arrested. When he 
was upon the eve of his trial, Louis ISTapoleon wrote 
him a letter of condolence, so injudiciously expressed, 
that it could not but aggravate the case of the person 
in whose possession it should be found. In that letter 
I^ouis Kapoleon declared that he had partisans ever^ 



214: LOiJIS NAPOLEON. 

where in France, from the workshop of tne artizan to 

the council-chamber of the king. He closed by say- 
ing — "But if one day the movement of parties should 
overthrow the existing powers, (and the experience of 
the last fifty years authorizes the belief,) and if, accus- 
tomed, as they have been for the last twenty-three 
years, to despise authority, they should undermine all 
the foundations of the social edifice, — then, perhaps, 
the name of E^apoleon, may prove an anchor of safety 
for all that is noble and truly patriotic in France." 
This indiscreet letter aided in the condemnation of 
Laity to five years imprisonment. 

The French government, to whom the presence of 
Louis Napoleon in Switzerland occasioned great unea- 
siness, required his expulsion from the country. This 
being refused, a considerable army was sent toward the 
Swiss frontier, to enforce compliance. The Swiss, on 
their part, made preparations for resistance, and for 
the defense of their territory. A painful and unequal 
conflict was in prospect, when the Prince prudently 
put an end to further trouble by voluntarily withdraw- 
ing from Switzerland. The following passages occur 
in his communication to the government announcing 
his determination : 

" A month ago, Switzerland, by her energetic pro- 
tests, and now by the decision of her great councils, at 
this time assembled, has shown that she was and is ready 
to make the greatest sacrifice for the maintenance of 
her dignity and rights. She has done her duty as an 
independent nation : I know how to do mine, and to 
remain faithful to the voice of houor. I may be perse- 
cuted, but never degraded. Tlie French government, 
having declared that the refusal of the Diet to yield 
to its demands would be the signal of a conflagration, 



LOUIS NAPOLEON IN ENGLAND. 215 

of which Switzerland would become the victim ; I 
have no alternative but to quit a country, when my 
presence is made the cause of such unjust preten- 
sions, and would be made the excuse for such great 
misfortunes. 

"In quitting, voluntarily, for the present, the only 
country in Europe where 1 have met with support and 
protection, and which has now become dear to me for 
so many reasons, I hope to prove to the Swiss people, 
that I was worthy of those marks of esteem and aiiec- 
tion which they have las^ished upon me. 1 hope this 
separation will not be perpetual, and that a day will 
come, when, without compromising the interests of two 
nations, which ought to remain friends, I shall be able 
to return to an asylum which twenty years residence 
and acquired rights have made, as it were, a second 
father-land." 

Louis Napoleon then sought refuge in England, and 
remained in London from the end of the year 1838, 
until the month of August, 1840. During this period, 
it is said, many of his days and nights were sjDent on 
the race-course, in gambling houses, or other equally 
disreputable places of resort, and that often his inti- 
mates were among the least honorable members of the 
"gay" world. Meanwhile it is asserted that he was 
in the habit of frequently boasting, in the presence of 
Englishmen, that he would some day be Emperor of 
France, and that then the first thing he should do 
would be to invade England. "I like you very well 
as a people, (said he,) but I must wipe out Waterloo 
and St. Helena!" 

While Louis Napoleon was making his daring at- 
tempt to restore the dynasty of the Emperor, Charles 
X., who had been driven into exile to give place on the 
throne of France for Louis Philippe, was dying in a 
small town in a remote corner of the Austrian empire. 



216 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

For SIX years he had resided, as an exile, in England, 
in Prussia, in Bohemia, and at Prague. In 1836, he 
removed to Goritz, in Stjria, one of the Austrian 
provinces. The winter was excessively severe, and the 
rigor of the climate seriously affected his already im- 
paired health. He was the prey of a profound mel- 
ancholy, and the subject of death was frequently 
mentioned by him. " The day is not far distant, (he 
said,) that shall witness the funeral of the poor old 
man." On the morning of l!^ovember 4, 1836, St. 
Charles' day, he was seized with a chill during the 
celebration of mass ; and, in the evening, when he en- 
tered the saloon, where the members of his family were 
assembled, with a few who comprised his court, they 
were filled with dismay by his asj)ect. His features 
were strangely contracted ; his voice was dismally 
sonorous ; it could no longer be doubted that death 
was upon him. In the night his friends were called 
around the bedside of the dying monarch. He awaited 
with tranquillity the momentous change which was 
about to take place, and conversed calmly on the things 
of eternity with the Bishop of Hermopolis, who was 
present to cheer and comfort him in his agony. His 
family knelt down to receive his dying blessing. Laj- 
ing his hands on their heads, he said — "God protect 
you, my children! Walk in the ways of righteousness. 
Do not forget me, and pray often for me!" in the 
night of the 6th of ITovember, he fell into a deep leth- 
argy, a slight motion of the lips alone showing that he 
still lived. Early on the morning of the 6th, all pres- 
ent fell on their knees, and agonizing sobs burst from 
tbeir lips. Charles X, was dead. Five days afterw^n} 



DfiATH OF THE DUKE b' ANGOULEME. 217 

his corpse was carried to the Franciscan convent, 
situated on a height at a little distance from the town. 
There, in an ordinary sepulcher, by the feeble light of 
a lamp, his friends were permitted, for the last time, to 
look upon the pale features of the fallen monarch. He 
had died at the advanced age of seventy-nine years. 
All the reigning houses of Europe put on the mourning 
prescribed by etiquette, one alone excepted — that of 
his relation, Louis Philippe I 

The Duke d' Angouleme, (son of Charles X.,) who, 
after the death of his father, was called King of France, 
by the adherents of the Bourbons, died May 4, 1844, 
at Goritz. His death produced no other effect than to 
fix the eyes of the Bourbonists more distinctly upon 
the Duke of Bordeaux, his nephew, and son of the 
Duchess de Berri, who was thereafter called Henry Y. 
He was a harmless character, of no marked talent, and 
of no decided propensities. During the government 
of Charles X. he was contented with doing what he 
was bid — at the Revolution of 1830 he was contented 
with doing nothing — and during his exile he was 
contented with being nothing. Though exiled he could 
scarcely be called unfortunate. He had the means of 
existence without the trouble of exertion — he had the 
name of a prince without its responsibilities — and he 
had the title of a king, without its labors, its duties, or 
its cares. 

The Emperor ITapoleon, while at St. Helena, had 
often expressed an ardent desire to be buried in France. 
This wish was solemnly and pathetically repeated in 
his will. "It is my wish, (said he, after making his 
numerous bequests,) that my ashes may repose on th© 

10 



MS lotJis TSJLpotmi^. 

banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French people 
whom I loved so welL" The predecessors of Louis 
Philippe had refused to request of the British govern- 
ment permission to remove the remains of Napoleon 
from their island tomb, for interment in France. The 
popular feeling on the subject had grown so strong in 
184:0, that Louis Philippe considered it politic to yield 
to the national wish, and accordingly his son, Prince 
of Joinville, was dispatched to St. Helena to perform 
the office of restoring the ashes of the Emperor to the 
soil of France. When the stirring announcement rung 
in the ears of the French, that the venerated remains of 
J^apoleon were on the sea, wafted by every breeze still 
nearer to his idolized France, there was an upheaving 
of the popular heart which cannot be described or even 
appreciated by a foreigner. The energy and warmth 
of the emotions aroused by this intelligence attested the 
fidelity of the French heart to the memory of the Em- 
peror. It was an event highly favorable to the views 
of the partisans of Louis Napoleon, and they urged 
him to undertake another expedition for the overthrow 
of Louis Philippe. " Is it fitting," it was asked, in 
the passionate language of many of the old followers 
of the Emperor, " is it fitting that the corpse of Na- 
poleon should be insulted by the presence of the 
Bourbon family, which united with Europe in chaining 
him alive to the rock of St. Helena ; which vindic- 
tively condemned to death his greatest marshals ; and 
still pursues his nearest relatives in ignominious exile? 
Is it becoming," they persisted, " that his revered ashes 
should be touched by the profane hands of his ene- 
mies, when, as a duty and a right, they should be 



tOtriS KAfOLEON AT BOUtOONE!. 219 

delivered up to the pious care of his relatives, for 
those imposing ceremonies which the whole nation will 
stand by in solemn grief to witness?" In compliance 
with these requests, and the promj)tings of his own 
restless and ambitious heart, Louis IsTapoleon deter- 
mined on a second invasion of France. The regiment 
that had declared in his favor at Strasbourg was then 
stationed in the neighborhood of Boulogne, and accord- 
ingly, at the latter place it was determined to under- 
take the Revolution. Hiring a steamer, he started, 
with sixty followers, for the coast of France. 

There were but two companies of infantry quartered 
at Boulogne, and it was soon ascertained that they 
would zealously join the Prince. A captain, of one of 
these companies, however, who had received some 
favors from the king, adhered to his allegiance, and 
obstinately refused all the advances made to him. It 
was then decided to have him removed to some other 
point, and a short delay ensued in order to accomplish 
this. Orders were finally issued, transferring him to 
another command, and the day for his departure 
named. Some accident prevented his going, which 
event proved fatal to the enterprise of Louis Napoleon. 
On the 6th of August, 1840, the day following the 
supposed departure of the loyal captain, the Prince 
landed with his suite at sunrise just below the town, 
and repaired instantly to the barracks. His arrival 
was no sooner announced than every soldier rushed 
into the court-yard, giving the wildest expression to 
his enthusiasm. They mounted the Prince on theii 
shoulders, and bore him about in triumph. Anxious 
to lose not a moment in escaping from Boulogne on 



220 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

his road to St. Omer, where the garrison awaited hini^ 
Louis ISTapoleon endeavored to establish order, and 
addressing a few stirring words to the troops, he bade 
them follow him. Brandishing their arms, and ut- 
tering the most passionate cries of devotion, they 
obeyed his summons, and dashed toward the portal of 
the barracks. Here the whole movement was checked 
by the unexpected apparition of the afore-mentioned 
officer, who had hastened to the barracks on hearing of 
the event. His soldiers quailed at the sight of him, 
and, drawing his sword, he began a spirited harangue. 
The mom.ent was critical in the extreme. Every min- 
ute's delay was attended with imminent danger. The 
partisans of the government were actively at work 
assembling the National Guard, which the small force 
on the side of the sedition was in no wise adequate to 
meet. Advancing impetuously toward the sole object 
in his path, the Prince addressed the contumacious 
captain in strong terms of remonstrance ; words en- 
sued, and in the heat of the moment the Prince drew 
a pistol and fired at him. The shot, missing its object, 
unhappily took effect on a poor soldier, who was at 
that very moment shouting "Yive Napoleon HI.!" 

This painful incident distressed the Prince, and 
threw a damper over the spirits of all. A report, too, 
was at that instant brought him, which afterward 
turned out incorrect, that one of his principal officers 
had abandoned his cause, and gone over to the king. 
Growing desperate with his situation, he made an en- 
ergetic effort to dissipate the confusion prevailing, and 
rally the drooping courage of his troops. Their reso- 
lution returned, and, stil] accomj)anied by the greater 



fiECOi^D DEFEAT Of LOUIS NAPOLEON. S2l 

J)art, lie made his way to the gates of the town. To 
his utter discomfiture, he found them closed ; and 
turning round, he saw himself, and a handful of men, 
hemmed in on every side by the National Guard, 
which, as yet, had no distinct idea whom or what 
they were contending with. An immediate surrender 
would have been, perhaps, the most prudent thing 
under the circumstances, but such was not the mood of 
the Prince. iNobly supported by the forlorn hope 
which still clung to him, he charged with such impetu- 
osity on the forces in his front as to scatter them in 
every direction. Without any purpose, and bereft of 
every chance of success, the idea occurred to him to 
make for the column erected near the town, to the 
Imperial army and cutting his way through all opposi- 
tion he succeeded in reaching it. Here turning round 
he exclaimed to his devoted followers : "It is useless 
now to explain my j)rojects — my cause and yours is 
lost — there is nothing left but to die;" — and he per- 
sisted in his mad resolution to fight till some well 
directed ball should save him the pain of surviving his 
defeat. In defiance of his struggles and menaces, his 
friends seized him in their arms, and carried him oflt* 
to the beach, where a small boat was lying in wait 
to convey them to the steamer, which still lingered in 
the offing. They reached the shore in safety, and 
the Prince was entreated to shelter himself in the 
bottom of the skifT. They pushed off and made des- 
perate efforts to reach the steamer, little dreaming that 
it had already, with all its treasures, fallen into the 
hands of the Government. They were but a few rods 
from the shore, when the National Guard overtook 



222 



Lotus NAPOLEOIJ. 



tliem, and, thougli seeing tliem unarmed and entirely 
exposed, opened a galling fire upon them. Here a 
touching incident occurred, which gave a new turn to 
the melancholy affair, and brought it to a quick and 
tragic consummation. A brave old soldier. Colonel Me- 
sonan, arrived after the boat had left, and being hotly 
pursued, threw himself into the surf, and made great 
exertions to overtake his friends. He had swum a 
considerable distance, amid a shower of fire, and had 
nearly reached them, when his strength began to fail, 
and he was about to sink. Efibrts were made to 
rescue him, but he cried out, "Push on — save the 
Prince, and leave me to my fate ! " Escaping from the 
grasp of his friends, who were endeavoring to keep 
him out of danger, the Prince, wholly regardless of 
the risk, laid hold of his faithful old partisan, and en- 
deavored to drag him in. In the attempt the boat was 
upset, and the whole party were precipitated into the 
water. This painful event, instead of awakening the 
humanity of those on the shore, who disgraced the 
uniform they wore, only seemed to renew their zeal. 
They fired volley after volley on the unfortunate band, 
whose numbers were rapidly diminished. Some were 
shot, others drowned ; but the Prince succeeded in 
reaching the shore, when he stood unshrinkingly up, 
folded his arms, and facing his enemy, calmly awaited 
his death-blow. Two of his friends. Count Dunin and 
M. Paure, faithful to the last, were shot dead at his 
side. Col. Yoisin rushed forward to protect him, and 
received several balls in difi*erent parts of his body. 
M. Galveni, a Pole, in attempting the same thing, fell 
grievously wounded. The Prince himself was struck 



TEIAL OF LOTJIS NAPOLEON 223 

by two balls in the arm and in the leg, but the inju- 
ries were not serious. When, at length, the National 
Guard of Boulogne saw that nearly every man was 
down, and that the Prince, perfectly unarmed, was 
standing a tranquil target for their murderous aim, 
they plucked up resolution enough to approach and 
seize him. The ensuing day he was conveyed to Paris, 
and all along the road received the warmest marks of 
sympathy and regret. In every garrison town the sol- 
diers collected in groups about his carriage, and in 
their varied expressions of grief and anger, might be 
traced the strength of their attachment, and the bitter- 
ness of their disappointment. 

Toward the end of September, 1840, Louis J^apoleon 
and his accomplices were tried before the Court of 
Peers, when, on the 28th of that month, he made the 
following speech in his own defense : 

"For the first time in my life it is permitted to me 
to lift my voice in France, and to speak freely to 
Frenchmen. 

" Undaunted by the presence of the guards who 
surround me ; in spite of the accusations which I have 
just heard brought against me ; filled with the recollec- 
tions of my earliest childhood, on finding m^yself within 
the walls of the senate ; in the midst of you, gentlemen, 
whom I know, I can hardly believe that I have any 
hope of justifying myself, and that you should be my 
judges. An opportunity, however, is afibrded me of 
explaining to my fellow-countrymen my past conduct, 
my intentions, my projects ; all that I think, all that I 
have at heart. 

"Without pride, but also without weakness, if I re- 
call the rights deposited by the nation in the hands of 
my family, it is solely to explain the duties which these 
rights have imposed upon us. 

"Since fifty years ago, when the principle of the 



2^4 LOltIS NAl»OLEOl!r, 

sovereignty of the people was consecrated in France 
by the most powerful Kevolution which ever occurred 
in the history of the world, never was the national will 
so solemnly proclaimed, never was it asserted by suf- 
frages so numerous and so free, as on the occasion 
when it adopted the constitutions of the empire. 

"The nation has never revoked that grand act of 
its sovereignty, and the Emperor has declared it — 
'Whatever has been done without its authority is 
illegal.' 

"At the same time, do not allow yourselves to be- 
lieve that, led away by the impulses of personal ambi- 
tion, I have wished by these acts to attempt in France 
a restoration of the empire. I have been taught noble 
lessons, and have lived with nobler examples before 
me, than to do so. 

"I was born the son of a king, who descended with- 
out regret from a throne, on the day when he had reason 
to believe that it was no longer possible to conciliate 
with the interests of France those of the people whom 
he had been called upon to govern. 

"The Emperor, my uncle, preferred abdicating the 
empire to accepting by treaty the restricted frontiers, 
while he could not but expose France to the insults and 
the menaces in which foreign nations to this day per- 
mit themselves to indulge. I have not lived a single 
day forgetful of such lessons. The unmerited and cruel 
act of proscription, under which for twenty-five years 
I have endured a lingering existence — beginning ai: 
the steps of the throne, where I was born, and now 
stopping at the dungeon from which I have just come — 
has been alike powerless to irritate as to fatigue my 
heart; it has not been able for a single day to estrange 
me^^from the glory, the rights, and' the interests of 
France. My conduct and my convictions sufficiently 
explain the fact. 

"In 1830, when the people reconquered their sove- 
reignty, I had expected that the policy of the following 
days would have been as loyal as the conquest itselfj 
and that the destinies of France would have been 
established forever; instead of this, the country hag 



DEFENSE OF LOUIS iNAPOLEON. 225 

undergone the melancholy experiences of the last ten 
years. Under such circumstances I considered that the 
vote of 4,000,000 of fellow-countrymen, which had ele- 
vated my family to supreme power, imposed upon me 
at leapt the duty of making an appeal to the nation, 
and inquiring what was its will. I thought also that 
if, in the midst of the national congress which I in- 
tended to convene, certain pretensions should have 
made themselves heard, 1 should have had the right to 
re-awaken the glorious souvenirs of the empire ; to 
speak of the elder brother of the Emperor, of that vir- 
tuous man who before me is his only heir ; and to con- 
trast, face to face, this France as she is now, weakened 
and passed over in silence in the congress of kings, 
iiiid the France of that day, when she was so strong at 
home, and abroad so powerful and so respected. The 
nation would then have replied to the question, ' Ke- 
public or Monarch}^? Empire or Kingdom?' And 
upon the free discussion of the nation upon this ques- 
tion depends the termination of our sorrows and of 
our dissensions. 

"With respect to my enterprise, I repeat it — I had 
no accomplices. It was I alone who determined every 
thing ; nobody knew beforehand my plans, nor my 
resources, nor my hopes. If 1 am guilty as against 
anybody, it is against ray friends only. Sievertheless, 
I hope that they will not accuse me of having liohtly 
trifled with courage and devotion such as theirs. They 
will understand the motives of honor and of prudence 
which prevent me from revealing, even to themsehcp, 
how widely based and how powerful were my reasons 
for hoping for a successful result. 

" One word more, gentlemen. I represent before 
pu a principle, a cause, and a defeat. The principle 
;s the sovereignty of the people; the cause is that 
)f ^ the empire ; the defeat is that of Waterloo. The 
mnciple — you have recognized it; the cause — you 
lave served in it; the defeat — you would avenge 
^t! ISTo, then, there is no dis-accord between you and 
*ne ; and I will not believe that I can be destined to be 
|T"ieved by the disaffection of any others, 
15 



226 LOmS NAPOLEON. 

" Representing a political cause, I cannot accej^t as 
the judge of my intentions and of my acts, a political 
tribunal. Nohody will be imposed upon by your forms. 
In the struggle which is now commencing, there will 
be but one to conquer, one defeated. If you are in the 
ranks of the conqueror, I cannot expect justice at your 
hands, and I will not accept of your gjenerosity." 

On the 6th of October, 184:0, the court delivered its 
sentence, convicting all its prisoners, with three excep- 
tions, and condemning Louis Napoleon to perpetual 
imprisonment. The sentence of the others was less 
severe. When he heard the decision of the court he 
is recorded to have exclaimed — "At least I shall have 
the happiness of dying in France!" His letter of 
thanks to M. Berryer, the eminent counsel who con- 
ducted his defense, was a specimen of the extravagant 
rhetoric to which Louis Napoleon seems to have been 
much addicted, and which ever casts a shade of doubt 
over the sincerity of the fine sentiments he may utter. 
The letter was closed with the following words — "I 
know not what fate may have in reserve for me; I 
know not if I shall ever be in a position to prove to 
you my gratitude ; I know not if you would ever con- 
sent to accept any proofs of it ; but whatever may be 
our respective positions, apart from politics, and their 
painful obligations, we can always entertain feelings 
of friendship and esteem for one another ; and I de- 
clare to you that, if my trial had had no other result 
than to obtain for me your friendship, I should con- 
sider myself immensely the gainer by it, and should 
not complain of my fate ! " 

Two months afterward, while Louis Napoleon was 
pining in the walls of a prison, the ashes of his iiiicla 



ADDRESS TO THE EMPEx^.OK^S KEMAESTS. 227 

were received in Paris and buried with the greatest 
pomp, and amid the enthusiastic rejoicings of the people 
of the whole country. This occasion Louis Kapoleon 
seized to write a wild rhapsody, addressed, "Aux 
Manes de I'Empereur;" of which the following is a 
translation : 

TO THE MANES OF THE EMPEROR. 

"Citadel of Ham, Dec. 15, 1840. 

"SiEE — You return to your capital, and the people 
in multitudes hailed your return ; while I from the 
depth of my dungeon can only discern a ray of that 
sun which shines upon your obsequies! Do not be 
angry with your family, that it is not there to receive 
you : your exile and your misfortunes have ceased with 
your life ; — ours continue always ! You have expired 
upon a rock, far from your country and from your 
kindred ; the hand of a son has not closed your eyes ; 
and to-day none of your kinsmen will follow your 
bier! Montholon, whom you loved the most among 
your faithful companions, has performed the office of a 
son ; he remains faithful to your ideas and has fulfilled 
your last wishes. He has conveyed to me your last 
words. He is in prison with me ! A French vessel, 
under the command of a noble youth, went to claim 
your ashes ; in vain you would look upon the deck for 
any of your kin ; your family was not there. When 
you touched the soil of France, an electric shock was 
felt ; you raised yourself in your coffin ; your eyes 
were for a moment re-opened ; the tricolor floated 
upon the shore, but your eagle was not there ! The 
people, as in former times, press around your coffin, 
and salute you with their acclamations, as if you were 
Btill alive ; but the courtiers of the day, while render- 
ing you homage, say with suppressed breath — 'God 
grant, he may not awake ! ' You have at length seen 
again these French, whom you loved so much ; you 
have returned again into that France, which you made 
go great ; but foreigners have left their trace^ which 



228 LOnS NAPOLEON. 

the pomp of your return can never efface ! See that 
joung array ; they are the sons of your veterans ; they 
venerate you, for you are their glory ; but it is said to 
them, 'Fold your arms!' Sire, the people are the good 
stuff which cover our beautiful country, but these men 
whom you have made so great, and who are yet so 
small — ah, sire, regret them not! They have denied 
your gospel, your glory and your blood ; when I have 
spoken to them of your cause, they have said to me, 
'We do not understand it!' Let them say, let them 
do ; what signifies to the car which rolls, the grains 
of sand which it crushes under its wheels! They say 
in vain, that you w^ere a meteor which has left no trace 
behind ; in vain they deny your civil glory ; they will 
not disinherit us ! Sire, the fifteenth of December is a 
great day for France and for me. From the midst of 
your splendid funeral train, disdaining the homage 
of many around, you have, for a moment, cast your 
eyes upon my gloomy abode, and calling to mind the 
caresses you lavished upon me when a child, you have 
said to me, 'You have suffered for me; son, I am 
satisfied with you ! ' 

"Loijis ISTapoleon Bonaparte." 

Louis E'apoleon was imprisoned in the fortress of 
Ham, in the province of Picardy. It is one of the 
strongest citadels in France, and has, for centuries, 
been occasionally used for the confinement of prisoners 
of state. It was used by Lonis Philippe, after the 
overthrow of Charles X. in 1830, for the incarceration 
of the ministers of the fallen monarch. 

The fortress of Ham is one of great antiquity, the 
place having been occupied as a military station as 
early as the time when the legions of Julius Csesai 
were in possession of the country. Portions of the 
castle, still remaining, were constructed in the fourth 
pentury. On the plains in its neighborhood, the wild 



THE constable's TOWEll. 229 

tind warlike Huns, under Attila, were defeated in the 
fifth century. It was a place of much importance 
during the feudal wars. In 923, an heir of Charle- 
magne was imprisoned in Ham ; and 923 years after- 
ward, the heir of Napoleon — the only French monarch 
whose fame rivals that of Charlemagne — was a pris- 
oner within the same massive and gloomy walls. 

One of the most remarkable features of the castle is 
the " Constable's tower." It is one of much interest, 
both from the singularity of its construction and its 
romantic history. It was built in 1460, by the Count St. 
Pol, Constable of France. This powerful feudal lord 
was on but indifferent terms with his wily sovereign, 
Louis XL, and fearful that matters might go the length 
of an open breach, he bethought him of building this 
gigantic tower of one hundred feet in height, the same 
in diameter, with walls thirty feet in thickness, in 
whose capacious sides were constructed various cham- 
bers. A wide moat or ditch formerly surrounded it, 
adding to its security. Proud of this structure, he 
engraved on its massive portal the words still legi- 
ble, mon mieiix^ (my best) and confidently relied on 
its strength to protect him in case of need against 
the worst assaults of his formidable enemy. He cal- 
culated without his host, poor fellow, and with a 
stran^re blindness to the character of his foe. The 
Louis of that day was notorious for his exceeding 
craftiness, and, of choice, preferred always to accom- 
plish his aims by trickery, even when simple means 
would have been better. Instead of bringing his terri- 
ble artillery to bear on the impregnable sides of mon 
mieux^ which would have " laughed a siege to scorn," 



230 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

he expressed in dissembling language, his admira- 
tion of its noble masonry, and not long after, in affec- 
tionate terms, invited its enterprising projector to 
Paris, where the confiding St. Pol betook himself, little 
dreaming that the structure he had erected to preserve 
his life would only serve as a monument to commemo- 
rate his death. He was seized, imprisoned, and be- 
headed, on reaching the court of his treacherous 
master. 

In one of the various cells of this great tower, ac- 
cording to a popular tradition, a Capuchin friar was 
once imprisoned. When and for what, no one knows. 
But it appears that his misfortunes were the conse- 
quence of his virtues — a very common thing at a time 
when vice was triumphant, and guided the affairs of 
the world ! Providence, however, gave the most strik- 
ing proofs of its favor and protection to the poor Capu- 
chin ; for, if we can give credit to the legend, the monk 
continued to live for a long period of years, in chains, 
supported by the fervor of his prayers alone! His 
body had become so hardened, so petrified, by his pri- 
vations, that his head had worn the stone which served 
him for a pillow, and left impressed upon it the form 
of his countenance and the shape of his ear. It will 
easily be understood with what devotion this holy 
stone was visited, when it is known that every young 
girl who came to visit the shrine, and who, after having 
brought it into contact with her garments, religiously 
detached a small portion of it, believed she would not 
fail to find a husband within a year. It is needless to 
add, that in consequence of the soft and friable nature 
of the stone, that which is now shown in one of the 



THE LOVERS OF PICAEDT. 231 

casements of the great tower, has yielded with such a 
good grace to the devotional acts of the successive 
generations of the damsels of Picardy, that at present, 
there is neither impression of countenance or of ear, 
nor, indeed, of any thing which has any resemblance 
w^hatever to any part of the good Capuchin friar. 

There was a young man, named Lautrec, (says 
another tradition, much more recent and less doubtful 
than that of the Capuchin,) handsome in person and 
of an ardent temperament. He met with a young 
woman beautiful as himself, and full of generous pas- 
sion, but chaste, pious and imbued with candor and 
modesty. . Lautrec ardently loved her ; with a love 
Buch as men of his character feel, impassioned and ill- 
regulated. The young girl reciprocated his affection. 
She loved Lautrec, but she loved him with tender 
innocence. Her condition was obscure, and she had 
no property to redeem her from it. Lautrec imagined, 
for some time, that love would gain the ascendancy in 
her mind over virtue; but he was deceived. The poor 
girl, astonished and humiliated, found an inflexible 
strength in her purity of mind. Lautrec had no hopes 
of prevailing over or soothing his father's pride, and 
he did not, therefore, make the attempt to obtain her 
as his bride. The fruitless passion which consumed 
him became an obstinate and irresistible evil. His 
complexion faded ; his looks lost their vivacity ; he 
lived in seclusion ; and became gloomy, thoughtful, 
and taciturn. He scarcely listened to those who ad- 
dressed him, and answered only with groans. 

Lautrec had an uncle, still young. Who had been 
early raised to high offices of dignity in the church, 



232 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

and had always treated him with great aiFection. This 
uncle marked the serious change w^hich had taken 
place in his nephew, and was distressed at the result. 
He often J)ut very pressing questions, which the joung 
man evaded. The uncle would not suffer himself to 
be repulsed, and persevered. Lautrec, at length yield- 
ing to his affection and importunities, allowed his secret 
to escape. In an age in which moral duties sat lightly, 
and men were very unscrujmlous in their conduct, love 
was hardly ever treated as a serious affair. The uncle 
adopted all possible means to overcome the love of his 
nephew. Failing in this he urged the maid to submit 
to the young man's unlawful passion, and made offers 
of great wealth as a compensation for the sacrifice of 
her honor. But the virtue of the poor girl was not 
less deeply rooted in her heart, than her passion. The 
inflexible simplicity of her young mind disconcerted 
all the resources of ingenuity. The heart of the uncle 
himself was troubled, and a perverse, wricked and 
frightful idea entered his mind. He would himself 
effect her ruin. So many charms had captivated him, 
so much virtue filled him with inexpressible admira- 
tion. The unhappy man yielded to his passion, and 
ventured to declare his love. A cry of horror and 
fear was the only reply which the young girl could 
make : confounded and terrified, he fled. At the same 
moment, Lautrec arrived. The girl wept, groaned, and 
evinced symptoms of the most violent despair. The 
young man became desperate, and asked her the cause 
of such extraordinary agitation, such lively grief. He 
wished to know it, and to know it on the instant, 
without dissimulation or concealment. His voice was 



THE LIBERATED PRISONER. 233 

at once suppliant and imperious. He entreated and 
insisted ; he wept and commanded. "What could the 
poor girl do? She was overcome by her own emo- 
tion — by the eagerness and impetuosity of Lautrec. 
In her indignation and her amazement, incapable of 
measuring her words or of foreseeing consequences, she 
made imprudent disclosures, and Lautrec learned the 
treachery of his uncle, or surmised it. 

Overwhelmed with the intelligence, his mind be- 
came deranged, and scarce a glimmering of reason 
was left. He rushed away — seized his arms — fol- 
lowed the traces of his uncle — reached him at the 
foot of the altar, and although robed in the vestments 
of his exalted office, he struck him dead, and revenged 
himself in his blood. From that time the dungeons 
of Ham became the refuge of his madness and his 
crime. Forty years had elapsed, when the Revolution 
of 1789 took place, and he was liberated ; but forgot- 
ten, and disavowed by his kindred, he had neither a 
resting-place nor bread. The people of Ham took pity 
on his condition, and committed him to the care of a 
poor woman to provide for his wants. Her care was 
not long needed, for he died in about three months 
afterward. He would probably have lived a longer 
time had not liberty, a stranger so completely un- 
Known, come unexpectedly upon him, to derange and 
alter all the melancholy habits of his life. 

At the commencement of his sojourn in the citadel 
of Ham, Louis Napoleon occupied the rooms which 
had been appropriated to Polignac, the minister of 
Charles X. These apartments were in a complete 
state of dilapidation, and comfort was as carefully 



234 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

excluded from this melancholy abode as light itseli. 
]Sro person was permitted to visit him, on any pretense, 
without a letter from the government at Paris, coun- 
tersigned by the principal magistrate of Ham. His 
only servant, who had voluntarily entered the fortress 
with his master, was not allowed to leave it even to 
purchase articles for his subsistence or health. For 
some months Louis Napoleon patiently endured this 
rigor, and the privations of his daily allowance from 
the government of only a dollar and a quarter of our 
money : but in May, 1841, he addressed a protest from 
the citadel of Ham, complaining that in his person the 
usages of all nations, in the treatment of political 
offenders, were outrageously violated. The prisoner 
insisted that he was the son of a king, and allied to 
all the sovereigns in Europe ; and that he derived his 
honors from the same source as Louis Philippe his 
throne — the sovereignty of the people; he referred to 
the fortitude with which he had borne twenty-seven 
years of proscription and exile, and complained that 
ne was treated like an excommunicated person of the 
thirteenth century ; that he was not allowed, in his let- 
ters to his friends, to describe his condition ; that a 
civility from the attendants in the prison was punished 
as a crime ; and that he was exposed to numerous 
vexations that were not necessary for his safe custody. 
In this expostulation, in which Louis ITapoleon as- 
sumed the air of a martyr, he evidently had the 
advantage of the government, who, either yielding to 
the justice of his logic, or fearing to be accused of 
wauton inhumanity by their opponents, relaxed the 
(ietestable severity of his bondage. The condition of 



PEISON OCCUPATIONS. 235 

the captive was henceforth materiallj improved, and 
though he still inhabited the dilapidated chambers 
that had been occupied by the infamous minister of 
Charles X., his valet, Charles Thelin, was allowed free 
egress to the town, and upon the failure of his health 
Louis Napoleon was permitted horse exercise within 
the limits of the yard. Jailers are proverbial reflectors 
of the powers thej serve, and the commandant of the 
citadel now frequently, after shutting up the prison, 
retired to the prisoner's room to pass the evening 
at whist. 

Louis Kapoleon passed a large portion of his time 
in intellectual pursuits. He rose early, and wrote until 
breakfast, at ten. He then walked on the ramparts, or 
cultivated a few favorite flowers. The remainder of 
the day was occupied in various studies. His evenings 
were passed in the society of his fellow-prisoner, Gen- 
eral Montholon, or with the commandant. After his 
indignant protest in regard to his treatment, he was 
allowed to receive visitors, and many eminent men 
went to see the distinguished prisoner. His corre- 
spondence was quite extensive. In one of his letters 
(to Lady Blessington) this remarkable passage occurs — 
"I have no desire to quit the spot where I now am, for 
here I am in my proper place. With the name I bear 
I must either be in the seclusion of a dungeon, or in 
the brightness of power!" He corresponded with 
Arago, the astronomer, on scientific subjects, and with 
Sismondi, the historian, in regard to writing a life of 
Charlemagne. 

Besides his works on the Swiss Confederation and 
on Artillery, Louis Napoleon, previous to his attempt 



236 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

at Strasbourg, had published a volume of "Political 
Reflections,'- in which he seems to have endeavored to 
elaborate a theory of government embodying the idea 
of Lafayette in regard to "a monarchy surrounded by 
republican institutions." And on the eve of his rev- 
olutionary movement at Boulogne, he issued another 
work entitled, "Idees l^apoleoniennes," in 'which he not 
only explained his own view^s on many political topics, 
but those also of his illustrious uncle. In this produc- 
tion there is the same commingling of republican and 
monarchical principles as in its predecessor. 

Endowed with much activity of mind, and an in- 
satiable ambition, the Prince gave up his time, w^hile 
in prison, to the composition of several works. His 
literary pursuits not only afforded him occupation, but 
they brought him much applause and served to keep 
the public attention fixed upon him. 

Shortly after the incarceration of Louis Kapoleon in 
the citadel of Ham, the question whether the govern- 
ment should more effectually encourage the manufac- 
ture of beet-root sugar was discussed with great 
animation throughout France. The manufacture of 
beet-root sugar, factitiously created and supported by 
a high protective tariff, was one of the Emperor ITa- 
poleon's schemes for interrupting the ordinary course 
of commerce, and was adopted more especially with a 
view to the injury of England, from whom the French 
had obtained their sugar. It was natural, therefore, 
that the heir to the empire should think it his duty to 
adopt the prejudices and animosities of his uncle, and 
to advocate the policy bequeathed to France by the 
Emperor. The Prince's pamphlet had g^eat success. 



LITERARY LABORS OF LOUIS NAPOLEOi^. 237 

The committee re23resentiDg the interests of the sugar 
manufacturers, who were engaged in urging upon the 
government the necessity of protecting their industry, 
and who rejected the idea of a proposed compensation 
for the suppression of their trade, were about to draw 
up a paper to lay before the government and the 
Chambers, with a view to convince both of the ad- 
vantages of preparing sugar from beet-root, and of the 
rights and claims of the manufacturers to protection. 
This committee, having been informed of the existence 
of a pamphlet on this question, published by the pris- 
oner of Ham, found, on examination, that the Prince's 
paper presented the merits of the question in a manner 
80 clear and concise, that they relinquished the idea of 
any other publication. They found their own ideas 
completely and admirably stated. In consequence of 
this opinion, the committee requested the author to 
place 3,000 copies at the disposal of the society, to 
distribute them among the members of the government, 
and other parties interested. 

"In misfortune it is natural to think of those who 
suffer," said Louis l^apoleon, in the preface of a work 
on the "Extinction of Pauperism," which he published 
in 1844. It was certainly magnanimous, and highly 
honorable to the Prince, that in the midst of the annoy- 
ances and sufferings of captivity, he should occupy his 
thoughts with studying the best means for either reme- 
dying or mitigating the evils which afflicted many of 
his fellow-countrymen. 

The political economists of Europe seem to regard 
pauperism as a necessary evil, and affirm that all 
society can or ought to do is to repress itj for they 



238 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

consider its extinction to be impossible. They would 
suppress mendicity by punishing paupers almost as if 
they were robbers, without even thinking of the possi- 
bility of bringing about a condition of things in which 
there need be no mendicant, by making a place for 
all at the social banquet which God has spread for his 
whole people, as he has made the sun to shine upon all. 
Although not directly avowed, nor perhaps wholly 
intended, the policy of the European governments 
toward paupers seems to be founded, in a great de- 
gree, upon the principle that pauperism, although 
unavoidable, is still criminal, and that it should be 
punished, rather than that its miseries should be miti- 
gated. A Scotch economist, a few years ago, pub- 
lished a pamphlet in which he maintained that the 
most efficacious means of diminishing it would be to 
give no relief to paupers. They will die, said he, and 
their attenuated carcasses, in the streets and highways, 
will be a warning to all those who have not been 
careful to provide some resource against age and 
misfortune, in their days of health and activity! 

However impracticable may have been the scheme 
of Louis Napoleon, he seems to have been impelled by 
the sacred injunction — "Thou shalt open thine hand 
wide unto thy brother, to thy poor, and to thy needy, 
in thy land." His plan for the aid of the poor, con- 
sisted, chiefly, in the adoption of means to bring into 
use the immense extent of uncultivated or neglected 
lands, yet lying waste in France, without yielding any 
profit either to the masses or to individuals. He pro- 
posed that the government should form, on these lands, 
agricultural colonies of iinemployed laborers, m^ thu§^ 



THE NICAKAGUA SHIP CANAL. 239 

while giving them employment, enrich the state. In 
the course of his work the following language occurs : 
•'The reign of caste is finished : there is no way 
of government except through the masses ; while gov- 
ernment must be according to their will, it becomes 
the more necessary that they be so disciplined, that 
they may be directed and enlightened as to their true 
interests. Government can no longer be carried on by 
force and violence; the people must be led toward 
something better, through appeals to their reason and 
their hearts. But as the masses require to be taught 
and made moral, and as authority requires on its side 
to be kept within bounds, and to be itself enlightened 
upon the interests of the greatest number, two move- 
ments become, as of necessity, of equal force : action 
of power on the mass, and the reaction of the mass on 
power." 

Louis ISTapoleon also beguiled the tedium of prison 
life by the composition of various other works, chiefly 
relating to the Emperor, or in explanation of his own 
views of government. His attention was so absorbed 
by these literary pursuits, that it was only when they 
were interrupted, that he remeinbered that he was 
confined within the walls of a prison, and that he was 
surrounded by vigilant jailers. 

In the year 1844, while thus engaged, the states of 
Guatimala, St. Salvador and Honduras, sent an agent 
to Louis Kapoleon, requesting him, if his liberation 
could be procured, to go to Central America, and take 
charge of the construction of a ship-canal near the 
isthmus of Panama, to connect the Atlantic and Pacific 
pceawsp fhe negotiations were continued until, earljr 



240 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 

in the year 1846, he was endowed with all the powers 
necessary to organize a company in Europe, for the 
accomplishment of that great enterprise. This canal, 
which was to open a new channel for the commerce of 
the world, was, in compliment to him, to be called the 
" Canal J^apoleon." The civil wars which were raging 
in the various states of Central America, prevented 
the feasibility of the great project, the completion of 
which would have conferred imperishable renown upon 
the name of Louis J^apoleon, and the enterprise was 
necessarily abandoned. In the unsettled state of af- 
fairs, in the states interested in the canal, European 
capitalists were unwilling to hazard the undertaking. 

Toward the autumn of 1845, the Count of St. Leu, 
(formerly King of Holland, and father of Louis Na- 
poleon,) who had long been in declining health, found 
his end approaching, and determined to make an earn- 
est appeal to Louis Philippe's clemency, for permis- 
sion to clasp his son once more in his arms before he 
should die. Louis J^apoleon also requested permission 
to visit his dying father, and proposed, after perform- 
ing the last sad offices to the corpse of his parent, to 
return again to his prison. Through a technical objec- 
tion this application was denied, and he was referred 
to the king. The Prince then addressed Louis Philippe 
as follows : 

" Fortress of Ham, January 14, 1846. 

"Sire, — It is not without deep emotion that I ap- 
proach your Majesty, and ask, as a favor, permission 
to quit France, even for a short time. For five years 
I have found, in breathing the air of my country, ample 
compensation for the torments of captivity ; but my 
father is now aged and infirm, and calls for my 



LETTER OP THIERS. 241 

atteHtlons and care. He has applied to persons known 
for their attachment to your Majesty, in order to obtain 
my liberation ; and it is my duty to do every thing 
which depends upon me to meet his desires. 

"The council of ministers has not felt itself compe- 
tent to accede to the request which I made to be al- 
lowed to go to Florence, engaging to return, and again 
to become a prisoner, ss soon as the government might 
desire me to do so. 1 approach your majesty with con- 
fidence, to make an appeal to your feeling of humanity, 
and to renew my request by submitting it to your high 
and generous interference. 

" Your Majesty will, I am convinced, appreciate a 
step which, beforehand, engages my gratitude, and, 
affected by the isolated position in a foreign land of a 
man who, upon a throne, gained the esteem of Europe, 
will accede to the wishes of my father and myself. 

"I beg your Majesty to receive the expressions of my 
profound respect. 

"Napoleon Louis Bonaparte." 

He also wrote numerous letters to ministers, cour- 
tiers, and persons of influence, and received, among 
others, the following in reply from M. Thiers : 

"Prince, — I have received the letter which you 
have done me the honor to address to me, in order to 
make me acquainted with the refusal which has been 
given to your request. It seems to me, that the desire 
of seeing a dying father, accompanied by the promise 
of returning to prison on the first requisition of the 
Minister of the Interior, ought to have been regarded 
as suflicient. In my opinion, such a measure might 
have been adopted without inconvenience, upon the 
responsibility of the mitiister who had sanctioned it. I 
am sorry, Prince, not to have it in my power to be of 
any use to you whatever in these circumstancee I 
have no influence with the government, and publicity 
would serve you little. On every occasion in which 
I can possibly contribute to solace your misfoiiune* 
U 



242 LOTUS NAPOLEON. 

without contravening mj duty, I shall be happy to 
have it in my power to give fresh proofs of my 
sympathy with the glorious name which you bear. 
" Accept, &c. " A. Thiees." 

During the course of the negotiations, he was in- 
formed that the only condition upon which the gov- 
ernment would sanction his release, was a positive 
renunciation on his part, of all right to the throne of 
France, and a written pledge never again to make war 
against the dynasty of Louis Philippe. Such a pledge 
he refused to give; and, finding the negotiations for 
his release to be hopeless, he determined to cut the 
Gordian knot by making his escape, in disguise — in 
the disguise of an honest workman. This project he 
carried into effect very cleverly, on Monday, May 25, 
1846, by the aid of his faithful friend. Dr. Conneau, 
and his valet, Thelin. The Prince gives the following 
account of the proceeding, so far as he was concerned, 
in a letter, addressed to M. de George, the editor of 
a paper, for which he had often written while in 
confinement : 

"My Dear M. de Geoege, — My desire to see my 
father once more in this world, made me attempt the 
boldest enterprise I ever engaged in. It required more 
resolution and courage on my part than at Strasbourg 
and Boulogne, for I was determined not to submit to the 
ridicule that attaches to those who are arrested escap- 
ing under a disguise ; and a failure I could not have 
endured, Tho-- following are the particulars of my 
escape: — 

"You. know that the fort was guarded by four hun- 

rtTori ,Yipr? ^^]io f^irrsished daily sixty soldiers, placed as 

: : walls. Moreover, the principal gate 

vi ..'-o u; !suii iiS guarded by three jailers, two of 

■fhom were constantly on duty. It was necessary that 



ESCAPE OF LOUIS NAPOLEON. 243 

1 should first elude their vigilance, afterward traverse 
tLe inside court, before the windows of the command- 
ant's residence; and arriving there, I should be obliged 
to pass by a gate which was guarded by soldiers. 

" ISTot wishing to communicate my design to any one, 
it was necessary to disguise myself As several rooms 
in the part of the building I occupied were undergoing 
repairs, it was not difficult to assume the dress of a 
workman. My good and faithful valet, Charles Thelin, 
procured a smock-frock and a pair of sabots, (wooden 
shoes,) and, after shaving off my moustaches, I took a 
plank on my shoulders. 

"On Monday morning I saw the workmen enter, 
at half-past eight o'clock. Charles took them some 
drink, in order that I should not meet any of them on 
my passage. He was also to call one of the gard- 
iens (turnkeys,) while Dr. Conneau conversed with the 
others. Nevertheless, I had scarcely got out of my 
room before I was accosted by a w^orkman, who took 
me for one of his comrades, and, at the bottom of the 
stairs I found myself in front of the keeper. Fortu- 
nately, I placed the plank I was carrying before my 
face, and succeeded in reaching the yard. Whenever 
I passed a aentinel, or any other person, I always kept 
the plank before my face. 

"Passing before the first sentinel, I let my pipe 
falL and stopped to pick up the bits. There I met 
the ofiicer on duty, but, as he was reading a letter, he 
did not 23ay attention to me. The soldiers at the 
guard-house appeared surprised at my dress, and a 
drummer turned round several times to look at me. I 
next met some workmen, who looked very attentively 
at me. I placed the plank before my face, but they 
appeared to be so curious, that I thought I should 
never escape them, until I heard them cry, ' Oh ! it is 
Bernard ! ' 

"Once outside, I walked quickly toward the road of 
St. Quentin. Charles, who, the day before, had en- 
gaged a carriage, shortly overtook me, and we arrived 
at St. Quentin. I passed through the town on foot, 
after having thrown off my smock-frock. Charles 



Mi LOtTiS NAPOLEOl^. 

procured a post-chaise, under pretext of goiug to Cam- 
brai. We arrived, without meeting with any obstacles, 
at Valenciennes, where I took the railway. I had 
procured a Belgian passport, but nowhere was I asked 
to show it. 

'^During my escape. Dr. Conneau, always so de- 
voted to me, remained in prison, and caused them to 
believe I was ill, in order to give me time to reach the 
frontier. It was necessary, before I could be per- 
suaded to quit France, to be convinced that the gov- 
ernment would never set me at liberty, unless I would 
consent to dishonor myself. It was also a matter of 
duty that I should exert all my powers to be able to 
console my father in his old age. 

"Adieu, my dear M. de George; although free, I 
feel myself to be most unhappy. Keceive the assur- 
ance of my sincere friendship, and, if you are able, 
endeavor to be useful to my kind Conneau. 

"Il^APOLEON Louis." 

Dr. Conneau, whose five years of imprisonment had 
at this time expired, was a free agent in the affair ; 
and the noble disinterestedness of his character may 
be judged of from the fact that, by aiding his patron's 
escape, he placed himself again in the hands of the 
law for an indefinite period. Dr. Conneau, then, to 
whose affectionate devotion it is impossible to refuse a 
tribute of admiration, gives the following account of 
the Prince's escape, and of the anxious moments which 
he, the doctor, passed during the after part of the day ; 
when, instead of going away himself, as he was free to 
do, he remained in the fortress, in order to conceal, by 
every maneuver ingenuity could suggest, the fact of 
the Prince's escape until the latest possible moment. 
At his trial for this oflense, he said : — 

" I tried to conceal the departure of the Prince, in 



STRATAGEM OF DR. CONNEATT. 2^5 

order to give him time to escape. I was anxious, if 
possible, in this way to gain at least twenty-four hours. 
1 first of all closed the door leading from the Prince's 
chamber into the saloon. I kindled a strong fire, al- 
though, in fact, the weather was extremely hot, to 
countenance the supposition that the Prince was ill; 
with the same intent I put the coffee-pot on the fire, 
and told the man-of-all-work that the Prince was indis- 
posed. About eight o'clock, a packet of violet plants 
arrived by the ditigence. I told the keeper to fill some 
pots with earth, and prevented him from entering the 
Prince's saloon. About half-past eight o'clock the 
man-of-all-work came and asked me where we would 
breakfast. 'In my room,' I replied. 'I shall fetch the 
large table,' he said. I answered, 'That is unnecessary ; 
the General is ill, and will not breakfast with us.' 

"My intention was, in this manner, to push off fur- 
ther knowledge till the next day. I said the Prince 
had taken medicine. It was absolutely necessary that 
it should be taken — accordingly I took it myself. I 
intended to have given him a bath — this was impossi- 
ble, on account of the workmen. I then thought of an 
emetic, and attempted myself to perform the conse- 
quent functions; but that was impossible. I then took 
some coffee and threw it into a pot of water, with some 
crumbs of bread, and added nitric acid, which pro- 
duced a very disagreeable smell ; so that our man-of- 
all-work might be persuaded that the Prince was 
really ill. 

" About half-past twelve I saw the commandant for 
the second time, and informed him that the Prince was 
somewhat easier. The commandant looked at the 
works, and offered to send me his servant, in conse- 
quence of Thelin's absence. About one o'clock I told 
Delaplace to come and make the Prince's bed. Every 
time that I came out of the small saloon, in which the 
Prince was supposed to be lying on a sofa, I pretended 
to be speaking to him ; the man-of-all-work did not 
hear me — if his ears had been at all delicate, he would 
have been able perfectly to hear me speaking. 

"The day passed on very well till a quarter past 



^16 tOUiS NAPOLEOSf. 

seven o'clock. At this moment the commandant en- 
tered, with an air somewhat stern. 'The Prince is a 
little better, Commandant.' 'If,' he exclaimed, 'the 
Prince is still ill, I must speak to him — I must speak 
to the Prince ! ' I had prepared a large stuffed figure, 
and laid it in the Prince's bed, with the head resting 
upon the pillow. I called the Prince — who, naturally 
enough, made no reply. I retired toward the com- 
mandant, and indicated to him, bj a sign, that the 
Prince was asleep. This did not satisfy him. He sat 
down in the saloon, saying, ' The Prince will not sleep 
forever — 1 will wait.' 

"He remarked to me, that the time of the arrival of 
the diligence was passed, and expressed his wonder 
that Thelin was not returned ; I explained to him that 
he had taken a cabriolet. The drum beat, and the 
commandant rose and said, 'The Prince has moved in 
his bed ; he is waking up.' 

"The commandant stretched his ear, but did not hear 
him breathe. I did the same, and said, 'Let him sleep 
on.' He drew near the bed, and found a stuffed figure. 
He immediately turned toward me and said, 'The 
Prince is gone! At what hour?' 'At seven in the 
morning.' ' Who were the persons on guard ? ' 'I know 
nothing.' These were the only words which were 
interchanged between us : the commandant left the 



A brief imprisonment of only three months was 
imposed upon Dr. Conneau for his participation in the 
escape of Louis l^apoleon. Thelin, for some indis- 
creet and not very respectful language respecting the 
authorities, on his trial, was sentenced to six months 
imprisonment. The commandant of the fortress was 
acquitted. After arriving in London, the Prince wrote 
to the French embassador in England, and to a member 
of the British ministry, explaining his motives and 
intentions. To the French embassador he said — '*Ii? 



DEATfi OF THE COUNT ST. LEtT. ^4? 

quitting mj prison, I have not been actuated by any 
idea of renewing against the French government a wai 
which has been so disastrous to me, but only to be 
enabled to visit my aged father." He requested the 
embassador to inform the king of his peaceable inten- 
tions, and expressed the hope that this voluntary 
assurance would hasten the liberation of those of his 
friends who still remained in prison. 

The immediate purpose of Louis E'apoleon's escape 
from prison — to attend by the deathbed of his father — 
was not attained, for the Austrian embassador at Lon- 
don, who was also the representative of Tuscany, where 
the Count of St. Leu was residing, positively refused 
to sign his passport. Application was then made to 
Leopold, Grand Duke of Tuscany, but he replied that 
the influence of France compelled him to decline per- 
mitting Louis E"apoleon to visit his father. The Count 
of St. Leu had been living, for some weeks, in the hope 
of at length dying in his son's arms. He survived, 
only % short time, the intelligence that this consolation 
was denied to him. He died on the 25th of July, 1846. 



CHAPTEE Y. 

REVOLUTION OF 1848. 

On Monday, February 21, 1848, it appeared to 
every casual observer, that there existed in Europe a 
powerful kingdom called France. Its monarch, sur- 
rounded by an accomplished and numerous family; 
supported by a vast army ; sustained by an almost 
unanimous Chamber of Deputies ; possessing the cor- 
dial attachment of the House of Peers ; having an 
overwhelming force of friends among the moneyed 
classes ; and with an electoral body, an immense ma- 
jority of whom were enthusiastic adherents to his dy- 
nasty, and his policy ; he seemed to be placed beyond 
the reach of misfortune. The accidental whim of a mo- 
ment, in the Eevolution of 1830, had made this man a 
king. That Eevolution had been effected less by the 
organized efforts of the republicans, than by the spon- 
taneous indignation of the middle classes, at the des- 
potic policy pursued by the government of Charles X. 
The aristocracy were more powerful than the repub- 
licans, and declared for another monarchy; but to 
appease the disappointment of the latter class, the 
monarchy, it was said, should be one surrounded by 
democratic institutions, and Louis Philippe was to be 
a citizen-king ! The republicans were never reconciled 
to this defeat. They, and the majority of the working 



249 

classes, had fonght for a republic, and they looked 
upon themselves as deceived, tricked and ignomini- 
ouslj vanquished. But they were not disheartened. 
After a few unorganized attempts at revolution, they 
gave up, for the time, the system of insurrectionary 
movements, and determined to adhere to that far surer 
instrument, the pen, which they relied on to ultimately 
give them a complete victory. They wrote, talked, 
and industriously spread their doctrines. They also 
counted much on the errors of those in power. They 
were confident that Louis Philippe, as soon as he 
should feel himself secure on the throne, would labor 
for his own aggrandizement, rather than for the welfare 
of France, and that the unpopularity and hatred at- 
tendant upon his administration would strengthen the 
republican ranks. And they were right. While the 
spirit of insurrection was yet alive, Louis Philippe 
aimed at conciliating the republicans ; but no sooner 
was this crushed, than he exhibited the same tenden- 
cies that had characterized the Bourbon dynasty. His 
policy was then to turn back the tide of democracy, 
and firmly seat his heirs on the throne of France. 
His first step was to separate from the republicans who 
had been the instruments of his elevation. Some he 
treated coldly ; he dismissed others from ofiice. With 
the good Lafayette he provoked an unwarrantable 
quarrel. 

The strength thus lost he endeavored to replace by 
the actual purchase of new adherents. All the arts of 
corruption were put in practice. Some persons, less 
scrupulous than ambitious, rushed forward and met 
bribery half way — others, wha held out for a time, 



250 THE KEVOLUTION OF 1848. 

were finally swept along by the current. Every man 
of literary reputation, who would sell himself to the 
government, was gorged with offices and loaded with 
honorary decorations. Every rising young man, of 
the least promise, was lured to the same dishonorable 
distinction. Those only could resist the seduction 
whose virtue was superior to their eagerness for ad- 
vancement. The deplorable effect of this policy was 
soon evinced by the profligate immorality which was 
rapidly spreading among the ablest and most accom- 
plished young men of France. The examples of ser- 
vility, baseness and cupidity, shamelessly exhibited 
in high places, were followed with frightful rapidity 
among all classes of society. It was notorious in 
France, that every electoral body, hov/ever small — 
with rare exceptions — left wholly uninfluenced, would 
elect men of liberal views, and favorable to the gradual 
progress of reform. But reform was not in accordance 
with the views of Louis Philippe. With an aristoc- 
racy of electors — there being less than 250,000 voters, 
out of more than 5,000,000 adult males — Louis Philippe 
and his partizans found it necessary to resort to bribery 
to obtain the support of these constituencies. There 
were more than 400,000 offices, great and small, at the 
disposal of the government. These, with grants of 
almost innumerable privileges, loans, and the direct 
purchase of votes, enabled the government to insure 
to itself a majority in the Chamber of Deputies. In 
the Chambers, out of four hundred and fifty members, 
two hundred held profitable places under government, 
and were, of course, always subservient to th^ wishep 
(if the king. 



CHARACTER OF LOUIS PHILIPPE. 251 

The life of Louis Philippe was one of cold and un- 
deviating selfishness. His administration was one long 
intrigue for the adva-ncement of his family and him- 
self; and sometimes, as in the case of the marriage of 
the Duke of Montpensier with the sister of the Spanish 
queen, the trickery was so obvious, and the breach of 
faith so gross, that his majesty could scarcely be said 
to appear in the light of an honorable statesman. He 
met with the usual luck of the crafty, and it is now 
apparent that he overreached himself; for he forfeited 
the good will of England, and the respect of his own 
subjects, and thus weakened the moral basis of his 
dynasty, without at all increasing its material sup- 
ports. During a reign of seventeen years, in which, 
in spite of constitutional restrictions, his real authority 
and influence were immense, he did little for his coun- 
try, little for the moral and intellectual elevation of 
the people, and nothing for the gradual improvement 
of the political institutions of the kingdom. His time 
and attention were absorbed in seeking splendid for- 
eign alliances for his children ; in maneuvering to 
obtain a pliant majority in the Chambers ; and in 
endeavors to keep those ministers at the head of affairs 
who would second most heartily his private designs. 

In favor of Louis Philippe it may be said, that he 
was unwilling to shed blood even for the- gravest 
political crimes, and that he was sincerely desirous of 
maintaining the peace of Europe. Credit for these 
virtues are due to him, though both tended to the 
security of his throne. Prosperity is always attendant 
upon peace, and during the reign of Louis Philippe, 
France was eminently prosperous. The conditiori of 



252 THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 

all classes of its population greatly improved. At 
peace with the whole civilized world, its commerce 
and manufactures were flourishing; its peasantry 
comfortable and unusually contented ; and although 
taxation was enormous, it was equally distributed, no 
class being exempted from its pressure, but all shar- 
ing the burden alike. All were equal before the law, 
and toleration of opinion, in politics or religion, was 
complete. 

But the prosperity of the country finally met a check 
in the frightful increase of taxation. In 1847, the taxes 
amounted to 1300,000,000. This iamount had been 
swelled by the system of creating numerous unneces- 
sary offices to buy votes, but it was mostly attributable 
to the people themselves. The war in Algiers, which 
was solely a sacrifice to the popular appetite for mili- 
tary glory and foreign possessions, constituted a con- 
tinual and prodigious drain upon the treasury. Louis 
Philippe dared not abandon his costly and unprofit- 
able possession in Africa. The people would not hear 
of it ; and so an army of a hundred thousand men 
was maintained there, to wage an inglorious war with 
a few Arabs, and to make useless expeditions into the 
desert. 

For some years, the subject of electoral reform had 
been agitated among the people. Scarcely one in forty 
of the adult male population of France were voters. 
In the session of the Chambers for 1846, when allusion 
was made to this topic by some of the deputies, Guizot 
tauntingly told them that the people did not desire 
such a reform, as no petitions for it had been presented. 
Jlb ^/Vowed political meetings were prohibited bec^u^^ 



THE EEFOEM BANQUETS. 253 

they had been so often made a cloak for insurrections, 
the people prepared to hold a series of banquets in 
different parts of the country, at which the toasts and 
speeches should bear entirely on the question of the 
extension of the elective francbise. This scheme was 
carried into effect. During the summer of 184:7, 
seventy banquets were held in various parts of the 
country, attended by large numbers of electors. They 
all passed off quietly, but they gave evidence that pub- 
lic opinion was strongly in favor of leform. At some 
of these banquets, the usual toast oi "the King" v/as 
omitted, and one in favor of universal suffrage and the 
unlimited liberty of the press was substituted. About 
the middle of September, the journeymen printers of 
Paris made the usual arrangements to celebrate their 
annual dinner. For several years, not the slightest 
opposition had been offered to their so doing, particu- 
larly as the banquet was of a social and private char 
acter, wholly unconnected with politics. But already 
had ministers and their friends entered upon the false 
and fatal path which led them to destruction. Tiie 
banquet was to have taken place at a restaurant. Just 
as the body of workmen were about to sit down, a 
commissary of police ordered them to disperse. Being 
backed, as the man in office was, by municipal guards 
and soldiers, the artisans, after protest, obeyed ; but 
determined not to be balked of their feast, demanded 
permission of a printer, known for his liberal opinions, 
to meet on his private premises, outside the town. 
The printer acceded, and as the law distinctly allows 
meetings in a private house, on the proprietor's own 
responsibility, no fear was felt for the result. But, 



254 THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 

with the idea which now actuated the prefect of police, 
guided, as he was, bj the cabinet, legality was of little 
moment. Scarcely had the printers re-assembled at 
the house which had been generously placed at their 
disposal, ere some hundreds of soldiers, municipal 
guards, and a commissary of police, presented them- 
selves anew, entered the printer's house, and forcibly 
dispersed the assembly. Other assemblies were dis- 
solved in the same arbitrary and illegal manner. 

The king's speech, at the opening of the Chambers, 
December 28, 1847, closed with a contemptuous allu- 
sion to these banquets. On the 19th of the following 
January, the address of the Peers, in reply to the 
king's speech, was carried by a large majority. One 
of the paragraphs of the address was directed against 
the reform banquets. " I^oisy manifestations, (said the 
Peers,) in which are blindly mingled vague ideas of 
reform and of progress, passions hostile to our mon- 
archical constitution, opinions subversive of socio! 
order, and detestable reminiscences, have rather dis- 
quieted than convinced men." During the debates cii 
this address, in the Chamber of Deputies, petitions 
were presented for electoral and parliamentary reform. 

The severe allusion to these banquets in the king's 
speech, and the great majority which supported the 
address that echoed this condemnation of them, in- 
creased the fury of the opposition, as it was clear that 
the ministry were firm, and that there was no chance 
of unseating them by parliamentary weapons alone. 
They resolved, therefore, though with hesitation and 
many misgivings, to agitate the people still further. 
Hitherto, the banquets had been held only in the 



REFORM BANQUET IN PARIS. 255 

provinces, and after all the inflammatory speeches that 
had been made at them, not more than 200,000 per- 
sons, out of a population of more than 34,000,000, had 
been induced to petition for reform. But the Parisians 
-were more excitable and dangerous, and so it was de- 
termined to hold a monster banquet in the capital, to 
be preceded bj a grand procession, — a measure which 
was almost sure to bring the republicans into open 
revolt. The mere announcement of a great popular 
demonstration was enough to cause the desperate re- 
publicans to furbish up their arms, and concert all the 
measures necessary for the overthrow of the monarchy. 
The ministers expressed their intention of suppressing 
the banquet. They even declared that there should be 
no reform. Guizot, the prime minister, emphatically 
repeated his determination to put down all public 
demonstrations of opinion, in the shape of reform ban- 
quets. The friends of the measure met this declaration 
by expressing their determination to attend the ban- 
quet which had already been announced, and defying 
the minister to make good his threat — no law existing 
against a public meeting for any peaceable and consti- 
tutional object. The conduct of the minister was inju- 
dicious in the extreme. He had committed himself to 
a course, the tendency of which was utterly destructive 
of public liberty. Its illegality was obvious, but illegal 
or not, it became the duty of every man not in favor 
of absolutism, to make a stand against such an insuf- 
ferable assumption of authority. To yield would have 
been to tamely bare the neck to the yoke of despotism, 
and to see the last vestiges of freedom trodden under 
foot. To try the question, it was decided that tlie 



256 THE REVOLtJTIOK OF 1848. 

reform banquet, which had been postponed from time 
to time, waiting the course of events, should take a 
more imposing form, to which the independent mem- 
bers of both Chambers, and the public generally, 
should be invited. The object being a pacific demon- 
stration of opinion, it was arranged, that to avoid all 
danger of collision with the authorities, the banquet 
should not be held in Paris itself, but in the suburbs ; 
and to place the legality of the meeting beyond all 
doubt, by giving it as much as possible the character 
of a private party, the number of guests was limited 
to 1500, and no person not invited was to be admitted. 
!N"early one hundred Deputies, and a few members of 
the Chamber of Peers, signified their intention to be 
present. 

The day fixed for the banquet was Tuesday, Febru- 
ary 22, 1848, and it was not until Monday — the day 
preceding — that the government finally determined 
to attempt its suppression. The first plan of Guizot 
was to allow the banquet to proceed, under protest. 
A civil officer was to be sent to verify the fact of the 
meeting, and afterward a crown prosecution was to be 
commenced against its originators; but on Monday the 
court took ofiense or alarm at an advertisement and 
programme, which appeared in the opposition journals, 
of a contemplated procession to the place of meeting ; 
to consist of the guests invited to the banquet, officers, 
and soldiers of the ]^ational Guards — corresponding 
very nearly to the militia of our own country — with 
students and others, who were expected to act as an 
escort. They were to be so marshaled that the l!^a- 
tional Guards, though without arms, should appear to 



EEFOEM BANQUET FORBIDDEN. 257 

surround and escort the other portions of the assem- 
blage. The plan was a very skillful one, for the gov- 
ernment dared not provoke any collision of the troops 
of the line with the [N^ational Guards, who were in fact 
the chief support of the monarchy ; and though but a 
small portion of this civic militia would probably obey 
such an irregular summons, a few of them skillfully 
distributed around the procession, would effectually 
shield it from any attack by the regular soldiery. 

Monday evening arrived. The public places were 
all filled with anxious crowds. The evening papers 
were looked for, half in terror, half in hope. Knots of 
men, of all classes, conversed in under tones, while 
others read aloud extracts from the papers, by torch- 
light. Between nine and ten o'clock, when, of course, 
it was too late to prevent the assembling of crowds 
the next day to witness the procession, — the banquet 
having been the sole theme of conversation for a fort- 
night previous,— proclamations were posted about the 
streets by the police, announcing that no banquet or 
procession would be permitted, and cautioning the 
public against tumultuous assemblages in the streets. 
Wherever these documents were seen, the people col- 
lected around while one man would read their con- 
tents to the excited populace. They were then torn 
down and trampled under foot. Several republicans 
moved silently from group to group, sounding the 
disposition of the people, who, artizans, shopkeepers, 
professional men, all showed but one desire — that of 
resistance. In restaurants, in reading rooms, the prob- 
able results of a struggle were calculated, and some 

asserted, with confidence, that the troops were well 
17 



258 THE EEVOLUTION OF 1848. 

disposed toward the people. Many a student, many an 
artisan, many an enthusiastic republican, passed the 
night in cleaning his arms and making ball cartridges 
preparing for an emergency. That evening, the trains 
which left Paris were unusually full ; the more foresee- 
ing and cautious among foreigners and rich citizens, 
started to leave the country, or seek refuge in their 
country-houses. Amid moderate men, who wished 
well to the dynasty, and even to the cabinet, if they 
would but make concession to the voice of public 
opinion, stupefaction, terror and sorrow were the 
paramount feelings. 

A wide difference of opinion arose among the ban 
cpet committee in regard to obeying the proclama- 
tions. A minority were inclined to form the procession 
at all hazards ; but it was finally agreed that the meet- 
ing should be given up — that the public should be 
urged to maintain a peaceable attitude, so as to put 
the government wholly in the wrong — and that the 
late discussion of the question in the Chambers should 
be renewed in a form that would lead either to a dis- 
solution, and then bring it before the electors, or to a 
change of the cabinet. Articles of impeachment were 
therefore to be moved against the ministry. It was 
not expected that these would be carried, but they 
w^ould suffice to create an agitation that would force 
the government to give way ; or, failing to do so, the 
opposition, by resigning in a body, had the power in 
their hands of an appeal to the people. 

In the morning, a formal announcement that the 
Danquet was deferred, appeared in the papers, and'^ the 
government having been assured that no attempt would 



THE PEOPLE IN THE STREETS. 259 

be made to form a procession, the orders that had been 
given to the troops of the line to occupy the ground 
and all the avenues leading to the place of meeting, 
were countermanded. Picquets, only, were stationed 
in places where crowds might be expected to assemble, 
sufficient, it was presumed, to disperse a mob ; but no 
serious disturbance was anticipated, either by the 
ministry or its opponents. The proclamations of the 
government, however, and the announcement of the 
opposition journals, came too late. They had not been 
read by the multitudes of the working class, who had 
previously prepared for a holiday, and who, even if 
they had read the notices, were little inclined to be 
deprived of their anticipated enjoyment. The major- 
ity of these might be peaceably disposed, but their 
presence in the streets was necessarily calculated to 
render formidable the smaller number bent upon 
mischief, if an opportunity should arise. 

The morning of the 22d of February was wet and 
gloomy, but the streets were crowded from an early 
hour. Crowds of people began to move toward the 
Madeleine church, in front of which the procession was 
to have been formed. Many were not aware that the 
banquet was given up, and w^ent to witness the parade, 
while those w^ho knew that the intention of holding the 
meeting had been abandoned, went with a vague desire 
to see what would happen. Others, doubtless, went 
with a settled determination to provoke an insurrec- 
tion. About midday a crowd surrounded the Cham- 
ber of Deputies, which was soon protected against any 
risk of attack. Some of the windows of the residence 
of the minister of foreign afiairs were broken, and 



260 THE EEYOLUTION OF 1848. 

" Down with Guizot," was the cry ; but in a short time 
the house was surrounded with troops. The crowd 
and agitation went on increasing, and in some parts 
of the city the shops were closed. The multitude 
around the Madeleine church became formidable in 
numbers, though no symptoms of disorder or violence 
were manifested. In fact, with few exceptions, the 
crowd, amid whom were many well dressed ladies and 
gentlemen, were excessively good humored. The ma- 
jority seemed persuaded that the vast display of un- 
armed Parisians, who had turned out, would induce 
the minority to give way. Whatever disturbances 
arose, were the result of the confusion and injuries 
inflicted by dense masses of people moving impulsively 
to and fro, as they were Impelled by noises or rumors 
from various portions of the city. Toward the close 
of the day the excitement grew more intense. In some 
cases where the crowds could not, or did not, disperse 
at the command of the military, violence was commit- 
ted to enforce obedience. The aspect of the masses, 
who moved away telling what they had seen, was 
threatening. Consternation sat on the faces of the 
timid — anger and bitterness on those of the resolute. 
A few barricades were erected in the streets. In the^ 
evening the disturbances were increased. Additional 
barricades were erected. Coaches and whatever else 
the multitude could most readily seize, were used for 
this purpose. The drivers, when their vehicles were 
seized, led away their horses, in many instances laugh- 
ing. "We cannot carry you, (said one to a gentleman,) 
our carriages are hired — by the nation! " Gunsmiths' 
shops were broken open and their conteijts seized ; thtj 



THE PEOPLE ASSEMBLE. 2(51 

lamps were extinguished ; and anxiety for the result 
of the sanguinary contest on the morrow, which had 
become inevitable, spread through the whole of Paris. 

The court party alone were without apprehension. 
Although slumbering on the edge of a volcano, they 
appeared unconscious of danger. Eighty thousand 
troops of the line had been concentrated in or near 
Paris. The city was surrounded with forts, to which 
the troops could retire in case of need, and by which 
all the principal roads of the metropolis could be 
commanded. A portion of the National Guard were 
known to be disaflected, but the general body, it was 
believed, being composed of the middle classes, who 
had something to lose, were disposed to assist in the 
suppression of any riotous demonstrations, that might 
directly or indirectly affect property; and of the readi- 
ness of the municipal guard, or armed police to sup- 
port the government, no doubt was entertained. The 
worst that was apprehended was the loss of a few lives, 
and possibly the sacrifice of Guizot and the elevation 
of Thiers, his rival. 

On Wednesday morning, the 23d, crowds began to 
assemble at an early hour around the barricades that 
had been erected during the night. These barricades 
were attacked and partially destroyed by the munici- 
pal guards or the regular troops. The morning passed 
in skirmishes, in which some were killed, and success 
was generally on the side of the authorities. The 
people, however, when dispersed in one place, assem- 
bled instantly in another, and rapidly increased in 
numbers. The National Guard were called out in the 
hope that they would aid in the suppression of the 



262 THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 

disturbance, and use their influence with the people to 
prevent the further effusion of blood. But when they 
appeared in the streets, although they at first wavered 
as to the course they should follow, it soon became 
evident they would yield to the contagion of popular 
enthusiasm, and act with, rather than against the 
movement. Many uttered the popular watchwords 
for reform, and deputations were sent in from several 
of the legions, asking for the dismissal of Guizot. 
Louis Philippe's heart failed him, and early in the 
afternoon he announced the appointment of M. Mole, 
as the successor of Guizot. Mole for Guizot appeared 
to the people to be a trick to deceive them. It is in- 
comprehensible, had not the whole conduct of Louis 
Philippe been that of one bewildered by events, how 
he could have supposed that this would satisfy the 
people. He does not seem to have appreciated the 
extent of the danger. The impression on his own 
mind, and that of his family, was, that there was 
nothing serious. Thiers apparently thought other- 
wise, and had a long interview with the Duchess of 
Orleans, in regard to the affair. The ofiicers who 
visUed the various parts of the city, increased the fan- 
cied security of the royal family, by reporting that 
there was no likelihood of an insurrection. At the 
game time they assured the king that the plans ai- 
ranged to suppress any revolutionary movement were 
such that no fear could be entertained of the result. 

About ten o'clock on Wednesday evening, occurred 
the decisive incident that determined the fate of Louis 
Philippe's dynasty. All the streets were brilliantly 
illuminated, an(} every where imniense numbers of 



SLAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. 263 

promenaders, men, women and children, were out en- 
joying the scene, and rejoicing that the terrible strug- 
gle of the day had ceased. Processions of workmen 
and students paraded the streets, celebrating the 
downfall of Guizot. The house of the deposed minister 
was protected by a large force of the military. As 
one of the bodies of workmen was marching through 
the street near his house, they were suddenly fired 
upon by the troops. The order to fire was the result 
of a mistake. The scene which followed was awful. 
Thousands of men, women, children, shrieking, bawl- 
ing, raving, were seen flying in all directions, while 
sixty-two men, women and lads, belonging to every 
class of society, lay weltering in their blood upon the 
pavement. J^ext minute an awful roar, the first breath 
of the popular indignation, was heard, and then away 
flew the students, artisans, the shopkeepers, all, to 
carry the news to the most distant parts of the city, 
and to rouse the population to arms against a govern- 
ment, whose satellites murdered the people in this 
atrocious manner. A squadron of horsemen now 
charged, sword in hand, over dead and wounded, amid 
useless cries of "Mind the fallen," and drove the peo- 
ple before them. The sight was appalling. Husbands 
were seen dragging their fainting wives from the scene 
of massacre ; fathers snatching up their children, with 
pale faces and clenched teeth, hurried away to put their 
voung ones in safet}^, and then to come out in arms 
against the monarchy. "Women clung to railings, 
trees, or to the wall, or fell fainting on the stones. 

In two hours the terrible news was known all over 
Paris. During the night 3000 persons arrived by a 



264 THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 

monster train fronri Eouen, with arms and artillery. 
AH thoughts of slumber were abandoned. Groups 
stood at the corners of the streets. Everywhere barri- 
cades arose as if by magic. All night the po]3ulation 
labored, and the number of persons so engaged may 
be conceived, when it is stated, that upward of two 
thousand barricades of the most formidable character 
were erected. J^ot less than one hundred and fifty 
thousand men — some of them ISTational Guards — 
passed that night in fortifying themselves behind al- 
most impregnable ramparts, which would have cost 
many thousand lives to have carried, had the troops 
remained laithful to the government. 

The king at last became alarmed. Late at night he 
became convinced that a better guarantee of reform 
was required than a cabinet formed by a personal 
friend of the king, and in which the views of the court 
party would necessarily retain the ascendancy. Thiers 
and Odilon Barrot, the leaders of the two sections of 
the opposition, were sent for to form a ministry. Six 
hours earlier and the announcement of this fact would 
probably have satisfied the people and prevented fur- 
ther tumult. Now it came too late. The demand for 
reform had been converted by exasperation into a 
settled purpose of revolution, and the same spirit was 
likely to extend to the provinces. During the night 
the departure of the mails had been prevented, and 
the railways around Paris had been damaged or de- 
stroyed, at every point at which troops might be 
expected to arrive. 

At six on the morning of Thursday, the 24:th, Paris 
was gpyered with barricades, on which floated tb§ 



SACKING OF THE PALAIS ROYAL. 265 

tri-color, (the flag adopted by the revolutionary party 
of Europe.) Behind the barricades stood resolute men, 
armed with muskets, swords, pistols and pikes. The 
tocsin rung the signal for battle, and the fight beg^ 
between the people and the soldiers of the line. But 
the troops were ill-disposed to shed the blood of their 
brethren. At ten, ^one of the regiments joined the peo- 
ple. Just at this time a proclamation signed by Thiers 
and Barrot was distributed through the street. It an- 
nounced that orders were given the troops to suspend 
the firing ; that Thiers and Barrot were empowered by 
the king to form a ministry ; that the Chambers would 
be dissolved; and that General Lamoriciere was named 
Commander-in-chief of the l^ational Guard. The com- 
mand had previously been given to Marshal Bugeaud, 
who, beside being unpopular with the people, was in 
favor of energetic measures against the insurrection. 
The proclamation announcing the advent of a new 
ministry was torn in pieces. The tide of insurrection 
was flowing rapidly, irresistibly, toward the Tuileries, 
the king's residence. About noon, the people, headed 
by numerous detachments of the INfational Guard, at- 
tacked the Palais Koyal, took it and sacked the royal 
apartments. The noise penetrated the apartments of 
t'le Tuileries. Louis Philippe saw that it was useless 
1 .nger to brave the storm that gathered over his head. 
] lut one hope was left. He might abdicate in favor of 
Lis grandson, the Count of Paris, and the heir to the 
throne. The queen only, of all present, resisted this 
proposition. She clung to the king and entreated him 
to be firm, to battle against the people. He gently 
pUiihed her aside and wrote — "I lay down the crown 

12 



266 THE ^EVOLUTION OF 1848. 

whicli the will of the nation bestowed on me in July. 
1830. I abdicate in favor of my beloved grandson, the 
Count of Paris." Immediately the king and royal fam- 
ily left the palace, and sought safety in flight. As they 
departed, the people arrived. The former occupants left 
so hastily that they had not even breakfasted. The 
new comers made merry with the adventure, and some 
sat down to eat the breakfast prepared for the fugitive 
king. A lad ascended the throue, turned round to the 
people, and putting his hand on his heart, said, in 
royal phrase — "Messieurs, it is always with the great- 
est pleasure that I see myself surrounded by my peo- 
ple ! " The throne was then carried out into the streets 
and burned. 

The Chamber of Deputies met in the afternoon. 
The Duchess of Orleans, accompanied by the Duke of 
Nemours, entered, leading her two sons. The abdica- 
tion of Louis Philippe, the transfer of royal power to 
the young Count of Paris, and the appointmont of the 
Duchess of Orleans to the regency, were announced. 
It was moved that an entry should be made in the 
journals, of the acclamation which had accompanied 
to the Chamber, and greeted on their arrival, the Count 
of Paris as King of France, and the Duchess of Or- 
leans as regent, under the protection of the national 
wishes. M. Sauzet, the president, said, that the Cham- 
ber, by its unanimous acclamations, Here he was 

interrupted on the right and on the left, by the specta- 
tors. All was confusion. Lamartine moved that the 
sitting be suspended, out of respect to the national 
representatives, and to the presence of the Duchess of 
Orleans. The president announced the suspension of 



A REPUBLIC DEMANDED. 267 

the sitting, until the Duchess of Orleans and the new 
king retired After some hesitation, the duchess and 
her children, with those around her, withdrew from 
the room. Odilon Barrot exclaimed — "Our duty is 
clear : the crown of July rests on the head of a child 
and of a woman : the regency of the Duchess of Or- 
leans — a ministry selected from among the men of the 
most tried opinions, will give the best security for lib- 
erty : he could not undertake the responsibility of any 
thing else." A crowd of armed men, IN'ational Guards, 
students, and workmen, broke into the Chamber, man}^ 
of them carrying banners. They loudly denounced a 
restoration of the monarchy. They exclaimed that the 
Count of Paris should not be proclaimed king. The 
cry of many was for a republic. Voices were shout- 
ing, " 'No more Bourbons ! " " Down with the trait- 
ors ! " "A provisional government ! " Many of the 
deputies retired. Ledru Eollin obtained a hearing. 
He declared that a regency was impossible. He said 
that to proclaim the Count of Paris would be a new 
usurpation. He called for a provisional government, 
not named by the Chamber, but by the people ; and an 
immediate appeal to a convention, to settle the rights 
of the people. Lamartine also spoke. He advocated 
a provisional government which should prejudge 
nothing as to the ultimate form of government which 
it should please the nation to adopt. Here a body of 
people burst into the hall. Still, amid the confusion, a 
list of names for the formation of a provisional govern- 
ment was adopted. From the office of the Reforme 
newspaper, the organ of the ultra republicans, another 
list was sent out. By an arrangement, the two rival 



ti6S THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 

bodies met at the H6tel de Yille — the government 
office — and agreed upon a compromise, at first by 
choosing four of the newspaper set to be secretar?' ;s to 
the other body, but a few days afterward by admitting 
these four to full membership, the decrees being signed 
by the whole number without distinction. 

No sooner had the members of the provisional gov- 
ernment been chosen, than began one of the most re- 
markable councils ever held by any government. For 
sixty hours the provisional executive of the nation sat 
without abandoning their post, now writing decrees, 
debating them, and sending them forth to the nation 
by the voice of the printing machine ; now rushing out 
to do battle for their very existence, as new columns 
upon columns of people thronged to demand ne^ 
concessions. Several times the government was on 
the eve of dissolution. One party demanded the red 
flag. The majority knew that this was to sanctify the 
triumph of anarchy. They resisted. The people 
threatened to rush in and destroy the provisional gov- 
ernment. Lamartine hastened out, and stood on the 
stairs of the Hdtel de Yille ; but the excited people 
brandishing their arms, refused to hear him. He per- 
sisted, and his voice at length drowned the tumuli. 
He was heard, and his effective eloquence bro' 
people at once back to their senses. They i...: . ..^ 
turned to their duties, and before night, the foilowing 
proclamation was posted up in Paris, wbik rough 
proof copies were flying to every part of ''^ ;;itry 

through the post. Though they have appe ^ ■:^^ 

in the press, it is impossible to avoid giving here tbss© 
first acts of the government of the Revoluti.r)ii 



PBoCLAMATiON TO THSJ I^EOpLE. 269 

PROCLAMATION" OF THE PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT. 
"to the FRENCH PEOPLE. 

"A retrograde and oligarchical government has been 
overthrown bj the heroism of the people of Paris. 
This government has fled, leaving behind it a track of 
blood which forbids its ever retracing its steps. The 
blood of the people has been shed, as it was in July ; 
but this time that generous blood shall not be shed in 
vain. It has won a national and popular government 
in accord with the rights, the progress, and the will of 
this great and noble people. A provisional govern- 
ment, arising from the urgent acclamations of the 
voices of the people and the deputies from the depart- 
ments in the sitting of February 24, is momentarily 
invested with the charge of organizing and securing 
the national victory. 

"It is composed of Messrs. Dupont (de I'Eure,) La- 
martine, Cremieux, Arago (of the Institute,) Ledru- 
Rollin, Gamier Pages, and Marie. 

"The government has for its secretaries Messrs. 
Armand-Marrast, Ferdinand Flocon, Louis Blanc, and 
Albert. 

" The citizens have not hesitated an instant to ac- 
cept the patriotic mission which was imposed by the 
urgency of the case. 

" When blood has flowed, when the capital of 
France is in flames, the mission of the provisional 
govei-nment is public safety. All France will listen to 
it, and lend it a patriotic concurrence. Under the 
popular government which the provisional government 
proclaims, every citizen is a magistrate. 

"Frenchmen! give to the world the example which 
Paris has given to France! Prepare yourselves, by 
order and by confidence in one another, for those 
Btrong institutions which you are called upon to form! 

"The provisional government desires a republic, 
but subject to the ratification of the French people, 
who shall be immediately consulted. 

"Unity of the nation! formed henceforth of the 
classes of which the nation is composed ; the govern- 
ment of the nation by itself; 'liberty, equality, and 



^^0 THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 

fraternity ' for principles ; ' the people' for a motto, and 
the password of 'order!' Such is the democratic 
government which France owes to herself, and which 
shall have all our efforts for its establishment." 

A position of greater responsibility, or one encom- 
passed with more startling difficulties, than that to 
which the members of the provisional government had 
been chosen, can scarcely be conceived. France was 
in a state of anarchy. It was without rulers and with- 
out law. The Parisian people, the most excitable in 
the world, and headed by violent, daring and reckless 
leaders, were driven to the wildest excesses. To pre- 
vent civil war and all the atrocities and sufferings that 
were attendant upon the Eevolution of 1798 — to calm 
the furious agitation — to restore and preserve the 
public tranquillity — and to call a convention, through 
which the will of the people could be ascertained, and 
such institutions of state organized as the nation might 
desire ; this was the task which the provisional gov- 
ernment had assumed, and well and gloriously, amid 
the thousand obstacles and difficulties that beset them, 
did they accomplish it. 

But to Lamartine, the recognized leader and the 
most active member of the provisional government, is 
chiefly attributable the merit of having conducted 
France through so stupendous a crisis, with so little of 
outrage and so much of noble forbearance. During 
the paroxysm of this great and wonderful change, La- 
martine exceeded all the expectations formed of him 
by his warmest friends, and won the admiration and 
the enconiums of the world. His name will stand 
on the page of history, among the greatest and noblest 



statesmen of the nineteenth century. Wise, firm, be- 
nevolent and disinterested, he resisted the rash claims 
of the people, while he advocated those that were just. 
Alphonse de Lamartine was born at Macon, Octo- 
ber 21, 1790. His family name was De Prat, but some 
years ago he assumed that of his maternal uncle. His 
father was major of a regiment of cavalry under Louis 
XYI., and was imprisoned at the time of the overthrow 
of his royal master. The boy who, more than fifty 
years afterward, was to play so striking a part in a 
great revolution, passed many months of his infancy 
with his father while confined in prison. After the 
reign of terror, the royalist major was released, and 
passed the remainder of his days with his family at 
Milly, an old chateau in Burgundy. From his child- 
hood young Alphonse was remarkable for his preco- 
cious intellect. Among the few habitual visitors at 
the chateau, was the good priest of the neighboring 
village, who, from his amiable temper and endearing 
manners, was the delight of all who came within the 
sphere of his influence, and particularly of the young 
folks at the chateau, who honored and revered him as 
a father, without ceasing to love and cherish him as a 
playmate and companion. On one occasion he had 
called at the chateau in passing homeward from one 
of his visitations of duty and benevolence, and nothing 
could satisfy his young friends, who crowded round 
him with welcomes and caresses, but his remaining to 
dine and spend the rest of the day with them. The 
lady of the chateau joined her solicitations to those of 
her children, and the priest's inclinations strongly sec- 
)nded their wishes ; but there was a serious obstacle 



^2l'2 THE ilEVOLUTtOiT Ot 1848. 

in the way. "It is Saturday, (said he,) and I've not 
prepared a line of my to-morrow's sermon. And to 
compose a good sermon, (added he, smiling,) is no 
joke. It will take me all the rest of the day, and it 
may be, an hour or two of the night." " Oh, if that 's 
all, (cried Alphonse, who was then but twelve years of 
age, and who had receded from the crowd of little 
suitors around the priest, and was contemplating from 
a window the scene without,) I'll write your sermon for 
you, sir. I often write sermons, and preach them 
too — in my head ! What shall the text be? " All pres- 
ent, the priest included, greeted this half-serious, half- 
jocular sally with good-humored smiles or laughter, 
and the good man himself appeared to yield to the 
argument for his stay among them. Accordingly he 
gave a text at random to the young aspirant for 
preaching honors, and determined to borrow a few 
hours from his pillow for the composition of his to-mor- 
row's discourse. After dinner, Alphonse disappeared 
from the family party ; but as this was the frequent 
result of his contemplative habits, nobody took notice 
of his absence till the priest was preparing for his early 
departure in the evening — when Alphonse made his 
appearance with a roll of paper in his hand. " Here 
is your sermon, sir," exclaimed he, with a smile of ex- 
ultation on his beautiful and expressive countenance. 
The priest, innocently humoring the joke, took the 
scroll and opened it. "Well, (said he,) let us seo 
what this sermon of our young friend is made of. 
Suppose we try a little of it upon the present audi- 
ence ; " and he proceeded to open and read it aloud. 
He had not read many lines, however, before his aspect 



LAMAKTINE AS A LEGISLATOR. 27 «3 

and manner became entirely changed. In a word, the 
child of twelve years of age had produced a compo- 
sition of deep thought, fervid eloquence, and high 
poetry, and the priest pronounced it at church the 
next day to a delighted and admiring audience. 

The early life of Lamartine was one of meditation 
and of study, rather than of action. After his depar- 
ture from college, he passed some time at Lyons, made 
a brief excursion into Italy, and visited Paris during 
the last days of the empire. He was already dream- 
ing of literary, especially of dramatic, renown, and 
was a favorite with Talma, the greatest of French tra- 
gedians, who was pleased to hear him recite, with his 
clear and melancholy voice, the unpublished fragment 
of a tragedy on Saul. In 1820, the publication of a 
volume of "Poetic Meditations," placed him in the 
first rank of French j^oets. From that period he pub- 
lished many works, all of which were highly popular. 
In 1824: he entered diplomatic life as secretary of the 
legation at Florence. Afterward he went to London 
in the same capacity, but was subsequently returned 
to Tuscany as charge d'affaires. At London he mar- 
ried a rich English heiress, by whom he had one 
daughter. After the Revolution of 1830, he aspired 
to a seat in the Chamber of Deputies, but being re 
jected by the constituency before whom he presented 
himself, he undertook an oriental journey with his wife 
and child. While in Asia, he received the announce- 
ment of his election as a deputy from Dunkirk, and in 
1834, hastened home to take his seat in the Chamber. 
He did not attach himself particularly to any party, 
but appeared always as a friend of justice, of humanity, 



274 THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 

of tolerance, of morality, and of the poor. He rap- 
idly rose to the position of one of the first orators of 
France. Ilis rare courage and independence ; his ar- 
dent advocacy of all measures calculated to elevate the 
people and ameliorate their condition ; and his masterly 
eloquence, all pointed him out as the most suitable 
head of the revolutionary government, after the over- 
throw of Louis Philippe. His success at calming the 
violent, and subduing the obstinate, — his introduction 
of great, comprehensive and beneficent measures, and 
his guidance of the state safely through the elections 
for a constitutional convention, vv^hen the national peace 
was endangered by a turbulent host of ignorant dema- 
gogues, are proofs that the French people were fortu- 
nate in making him a member of the provisional 
government. 

The other members of the provisional government, 
although they possessed the respect and confidence of 
the citizens of Paris and of the French people, were 
scarcely known out of France. Arago, it is true, had 
obtained celebrity abroad, but as an astronomer and 
not as a politician. He had, however, been a staunch 
advocate of republican views for many years. The 
reputation of the others was almost exclusively local. 
Dupont de I'Eure, an old man of eighty, and a staunch 
republican — Cremieux, an able lawyer of the Jewish 
persuasion — Ledru-Rollin, an ultra democrat of the 
revolutionary school, earnest and zealous — Marie, a 
violent agrarian, having an extreme prejudice against 
the wealthy classes ^Gamier Pages, a distinguished 
financier — Marrast, editor of the "National," a man 
talented and energeticj with broad and enlightened 



LOUIS PHILIPPE IN EXILE. 275 

Bympathies — and Louis Blanc, an enthusiast and a 
socialist, — these were the most conspicuous members 
of the provisional government. 

Louis Philippe and all the various members of his 
numerous household escaped safely to England, and 
took up their residence at Claremont. The provisional 
government, instead of making any arrests, seemed to 
prefer that al] might leave France without molestation. 

In exile, the peculiar excellencies and graces of 
Louis Philippe's character were exhibited in a favor- 
able light. However grave the errors of his adminis- 
tration, however reprehensible his conduct as a king, 
in his family and in his social intercourse he was un- 
usually affectionate and winning. Those who saw him 
around his domestic hearth or met him in society, 
could not fail to admire him. On his arrival in Eng- 
land, he assumed the title of Count of Neuilly, and 
though in his own circle, all the respect, and in some 
degree the etiquette of royalty, were maintained, the 
exiled king fell easily, and indeed it may be said, 
naturally, into the character and manners of a private 
gentleman. The vicissitudes of his earlier days, had 
confirmed the simplicity of his personal tastes ; and 
certainly no man that ever existed could have stepped 
from a throne into the mediocrity of private life with 
less sacrifice of his ordinary habits, than Louis Phil- 
ippe. He rose late, and breakfasted with his whole 
family about ten or eleven. He then read his letters 
or the newspapers till about one, when he received 
visitors, of whom, both French and English, there was 
a pretty constant succession, and with whom he con- 
versed upon all subjects, with a fluency and propriety 



276 THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 

of diction, a copiousness of information, and, above 
all, with an unreserve and a frankness that surprised 
those who were not already intimate with him. His 
conversation was as diversified as his visitors, and, 
amusing and often instructive to all, it was appropriate 
to each. His own life was a fruitful topic, on which 
he was always ready to speak with frankness, and with 
a singular indulgence to the curiosity or even the criti- 
cism of his auditors. He had an excellent memory for 
family history, as well as for the events of his own long 
and varied times. Of his reign, and in regard to his 
overthrow, he spoke with freedom and moderation. 
What seemed to touch him most nearly was the indif- 
ference with which his abdication and departure from 
France were regarded. He once said to a friend : 
"When I was on the throne they would say to me — 
'Sire ! you are the key-stone of the arch on which rests 
the peace of ^Europe and the world.' I smiled inter- 
nally at the exaggeration, and thought my shoulders 
hardly broad enough 'to support the peace of the 
world.' These, I said to myself, are either flatterers 
or over-partial friends who exaggerate my influence. 
Well ; a day came that seemed in some sort to justify 
that opinion. I fell; and at that moment an explosion 
of revolutionary wars burst forth throughout Euro]3e — 
at Vienna, Berlin, Eome, Munich — in Sicily, Lom- 
bardy, and Hungary; yet not a voice — not one — was 
heard to ask whether 'this man, whom we have just 
condemned to die in exile, had not, after all, some little 
fihare in that general tranquillity and prosperity of 
nations which were so generally and so deplorably 
interrupted hj his fall' Was there diie to hina no 



LOUIS Philippe's domestic life. 277 

parting word of condolence — no regret — not even a 
remembrance — nothing f " 

All bis children and grandchildren, even the very 
youngest, dined at the same time and table with Louis 
Philippe. He had something particularly fatherly in 
his character, and was never so happy as when he had 
his children about him. It was something new to a 
visitor's eye to see all these children, two or three of 
them almost infants, sitting at table intermixed with 
the elder members of the royal family, the ladies and 
gentlemen in waiting, and a few English and many 
French occasional guests. Louis Philippe alwa,ys 
carved, (as he used to do at the Tuileries,) and seemed 
to take a kind of good-humored pride in the dexteritj 
and attention with which he helped every body all 
round the table. lie himself was moderate, though 
not abstemious, both in eating and drinking ; and im- 
mediately at the end of the dessert, all retired from 
table at a movement by the queen, and followed their 
majesties into the saloon. This was the joyous hour 
for the children. One of the elder princes would amuse 
them with some new toy — a magic lantern, a lottery, 
or some general game — or they would riot about the 
room, and escalade and storm the king's chair as if it 
were a breach in a fortress. This seemed to delight 
the king. The queen, the princesses and the ladies, 
worked at a round table ; sometimes her majesty had 
a table of whist. The king generally sat in another 
part of the room, and either read the newspapers or 
conversed — especially with any visitors. If, amidst 
the vast variety of his conversation, a doubt should 
happen to occur on any topic, he would appeal to the 



278 THE EEVOLrXION OF 1848. 

sxcellent memory and judgment of the queen, on which 
he seemed to place the most entire reliance, or to such 
one of the princes as he thought likely to be best ac- 
quainted with the topic in hand. He seemed to take 
a pleasure in bringing forward the special accomplish- 
ments of each, and they in general answered his ap- 
peals with an intelligence and an accuracy that justified 
his paternal pride, which was evidently one of his 
strongest feelings. It was impossible to be half an 
hour in his comj^any without seeing some indication 
of his remarkable respect for the queen, and afifection 
for his children. 

In spite of the heavy thoughts that must have 
weighed upon his mind, his conversation had a strong 
tendency to cheerfulness and even gayety ; and he en- 
livened even graver topics by a ready abundance of 
pleasant illustrations and anecdotes of all the remark- 
able men he had seen or known — and he had seen 
and known every man who had made any figure in the 
world for the last seventy years — except Bonaparte — 
about whom, however, he had a considerable store of 
anecdotes. 

Although seventy-five years of age, Louis Philippe 
retained his mental and bodily vigor until near the 
period of his death. In May, 1850, his health began 
to decline, and toward the last of August, his physi- 
cian deemed it proper to assure him that his end was 
rapidly approaching. This intelligence he communi- 
cated to him in presence of the queen. The king 
received the announcement with — for a moment — 
something of incredulous surprise and regret, but 
quickly recovered his composure, and accepted his 



279 

destiny with the calmness and resolution which liad 
characterized his whole life. He remained alone with 
the queen for some time ; no one can tell what passed 
between that royal couple, than which there has sel- 
dom existed one in any rank of life so long, so uniii- 
terruptedly, and so entirely happy in each other, — 
bound together by so many domestic ties — by the 
participation of such exalted fortunes, and by the 
dearer trials of such reverses and vicissitudes. When 
at last one of the king's confidential attendants was 
permitted to enter the room, he saw the aged couple — 
the king sitting in his usual chair, and the queen 
standing opposite to him — motionless and tearless, 
with eyes fixed on each other — like statues. ISTot a 
word was spoken till the king, with a firm yet inter- 
rnpted voice, addressed to her some words of love and 
consolation. These he repeated with an increasing 
tenderness of voice two or three times. 

He then recollected that about four months before, 
he had been writing some notes — relative to his return 
to France in 1814 — and said that he had stopped in 
the middle of an anecdote which he wished to have 
finished. He asked for the bunch of keys he always 
wore, and told General Dumas, who was then in attend- 
ance, to go to a certain cabinet where he would find 
the paper. The general seemed not to know which 
key to use, upon which the king said with a smile, '•! 
could never teach you to distinguish my keys," and, 
taking the bunch with a trembling hand that did not 
answer to the energy of the mind, he took ofi" the key, 
and gave the general exact directions as to the shape 
and place of the paper. When the paper was brought, 



280 THE EEVOLTJTION OF 1848. 

the king said, "My hand is already too cold to write, 
but I will dictate to you." The general sat down at 
the bedside and began to write ; and then followed 
two small incidents which showed the perfect — the 
minute — possession of his faculties even in that awful 
moment. Without looking at the paper, or asking 
what was the last word he had written, four months 
previous, he went on with his narrative with the very 
next word that the sense required ; and when he saw 
the general writing, as he thought, on his own original 
paper, he said, "You are not writing on my manu- 
script, I hope ; " but the general showed him that it 
was a loose sheet which he had only placed on the 
manuscript to enable him to hold it more steadily. 
The anecdote itself was of no great importance, and 
was one which he had often told ; but in the manu- 
script it had broken off in the middle of a sentence, 
and as it completed a chapter of his Memoirs, he did 
not choose to leave it imperfect. 

When this affair, which occupied but a short time, 
was over, he announced his desire to receive the sacra- 
ments of the Catholic Church, and desired that all his 
children and grandchildren, then at Claremont, with 
the whole household, should be assembled to witness 
these last acts of devotion ; and in their presence " he 
discharged, (says the official announcement of the 
event,) all the duties of religion with the most per- 
fect Christian resignation, a stoical firmness, and a 
simplicity which is the real evidence of human great- 
ness." The queen and all their children remained for 
a long time, kneeling, weeping, and praying around 
the bed, the king appearing perfectly sensible and 



DEATH OF LOUIS PHILIPPE. 281 

tranquil, and recognizing with a look of affection every 
eye that was occasionally raised to him. The fever 
increased in the night, but did not in the slightest 
degree affect his mental composure : nay, he seemed at 
one moment to feel so much better as to give a gleam 
of hope, which he accepted with alacrity. Even after 
he ceased to speak, his eye distinguished benignantly 
the persons around. At length he closed his eyes, and 
after breathing faintly for some time, without apparent 
pain, he expired. This event occurred, August 26, 
1850. 

Upon the overthrow of Louis Philippe, in February, 
1848, the provisional government of the Republic la- 
bored energetically to mould the convulsed elements 
of France into their new form. Large demonstrations 
of the people, in behalf of various measures, were fre- 
quently made, while deputations from the Irish, Polish, 
and Italian revolutionists, demanding assistance from 
the republican government, considerably embarrassed 
its operations. Yet the country was saved from serious 
difficulty by the admirable line of policy adopted by 
Lamartine and his associates. The bitter dissensions, 
among all classes, on the subject of socialism, created 
the most imminent dangers to which the republic was 
exposed. The Parisian population were so violently 
agitated by this question, that on several occasions the 
National Guards were called out to overawe the most 
turbulent. 

In April, elections were held throughout the country, 
for deputies to a IN'ational Assembly, to organize a con- 
stitution. Early in May this body, about eight hun- 
dred in number, assembled at Paris. The members 



282 THE KEVOLUTION OF 1848. 

of the provisional government presented themselves 
before this Assembly, the immediate representatives of 
the people's v^dll, and resigned the informal authority 
they had exercised over France. The venerable Du- 
pont de I'Eure, who was chosen to perform this office, 
read the following address to the Assembly : 

"Citizens! Representatives of the people! the pro- 
visional government of the Republic comes to incline 
itself before the nation, and to render conspicuous 
homage to the supreme power with which you are in- 
vested. Elect of the people! welcome to the great 
capital where your presence excites a sentiment of 
happiness and hope that will not be disappointed. 
Depositaries of the national sovereignty, jou. are about 
to found new institutions upon the wide basis of de- 
mocracy, and to give to France the only constitution 
that is suitable to her — that of Republic. But after 
having proclaimed the grand political law, which is 
henceforth to definitively constitute the country, you 
will endeavor to employ the efficacious action of the 
government, as far as possible, in the relations that the 
necessity of k.bor establishes among all citizens, and 
which ought to have for a base the holy laws of justice 
and fraternity. In fine, the moment has arrived for 
the provisional government to place in your hands the 
unlimited power with which it was invested by the 
Revolution. For us, the dictatorship was only treated 
as a moral power in the midst of the difficult circum- 
stances we have traversed. Faithful to our origin and 
our personal convictions, we have all been called to 
proclaim the rising Republic of February. To-day we 
inaugurate the labors of the assembly, with the cry 
that always rallies us together, ' Vive la Rejpiiblique!'^'''' 

Immediately after the organization of the ^National 
Assembly, Lamartine, Arago, Garnier Pages, Marie 
and Ledru-Rollin were elected an executive council to 
i.dminister the government, l^umerous delegations 



ATTEMPTED INSUKEECTION. 283 

from clubs and associations entertaining extreme opin- 
ions on political questions, filled the galleries of the 
halls, and attempted, sometimes by persuasion and 
sometimes by threats, to control the action of the As- 
sembly, and have their favorite views embodied in the 
new constitution. This was generally the case with 
those who held radical — and especially with those who 
held extravagant notions in regard to the attitude 
which the government justly bears toward the laborers. 
The more enlightened, discreet and moderate of what 
may be called the socialist party, took no part in these 
violent attempts to overawe the xlssembly. But the 
ignorant workmen, feeling that the rights of the masses 
had always been sacrificed to promote the interests of 
favored classes, and fearing that the wrongs under 
which they had smarted were to be continued by the 
new government, fully determined to obtain justice, 
though without any definite idea of the measares 
necessary to accomplish that end ; and having their 
apprehensions excited and their passions aroused by 
ambitious and unscrupulous demagogues, were con 
stantly creating disturbances and embarrassing the 
action of the government. As early as the loth of 
May, a band of rioters actually invaded the Assembly — 
declared its dissolution — and proceeded to the forma- 
tion of a new provisional government. But they were 
surrounded by the National Guards, defeated, and their 
leaders were arrested. Yet the dangerous position of 
the government was by no means ended by the sup- 
pression of this insurrectionary movement. The 
thousands of workmen who had been temporarily 
employed by the government, seeing that they would 



284: THE KEVOLUTION OF 1848. 

soon be without regular means of support, furnished 
ready material for the designs of those parties who 
aspired to the ascendancy. For more than a month 
the city remained in a disturbed and anxious state, 
which increased from day to day, until the 23d of 
June, when another insurrection, more violent and 
more wide-spread than its predecessor, broke out. 
Formidable barricades were erected, and on the morn- 
ing of the 24th, no less than 40,000 insurgents were 
armed for the struggle. The crisis was a fearful one. 
The national executive committee were powerless. Its 
members had formed the provisional government, and 
as such, immediately after the overthrow of Louis 
Philippe, had restored peace to Paris and to the nation 
by oflering employment and liberal wages to all per- 
sons, in national workshops. This measure, most salu- 
tary at the time, was inevitably productive of evil 
results, for as soon as employment was withdrawn 
from these artisans, they assumed a hostile attitude 
toward the government. On the 24th, the committee 
were superseded by the appointment of General Cav- 
aignac as military dictator. General Cavaignac had 
won great distinction in the war against Algeria, and 
had been at the head of the war department under the 
provisional government. He immediately declared 
martial law in Paris, and so prompt and energetic 
were his measures, that on the 26th of June, after 
many severe conflicts and great slaughter, the insur- 
rection was quelled, and peace was restored to the city. 
The number of killed was variously estimated at from 
5000 to 10,000. The name of Cavaignac was every- 
where greeted with the most enthusiastic acclamations. 



LOUIS NAPOLEON AGAIN IN PARIS. 285 

But no sooner were the insurgents subdued, than Cav- 
aignac, with an unselfish patriotism worthy of the 
highest admiration and praise, modestly resigned the 
absolute authority that had been placed in his hands. 
As an expression of their gratitude and confidence, the 
Assembly determined upon confiding to him the exec- 
utive power, with authority to appoint his own min- 
istry. His cabinet was composed of men generally 
acceptable to the people, and w^hile he remained in 
power, tranquillity was established in France. 

Louis IS'apoleon was in London when the Eevolution 
of the 24th of February, 1848, again threw the social 
elements of France into confusion and doubt. He im- 
mediately hastened to Paris, (the interdict against his 
family being now nugatory,) where he was among the 
first who saluted and recognized the provisional gov- 
ernment. The provisional government, however, being 
apprehensive that the presence of the Prince in Paris, 
might be made a pretext for disturbances by the ene- 
mies of the republic, he discreetly retired again to 
London. 

On the 24th of May, the Assembly, by an almost 
unanimous vote, passed a decree of perpetual banish- 
ment against Louis Philippe and his family. The law 
was so worded as to vindicate itself against the com- 
plaints of those who were affected by it. It ran thus : 
"The territory of France and her colonies, interdicted 
forever to the elder branch of the Bourbons, by the 
law of the 10th of April, 1832, is equally interdicted 
to Louis Philippe and his family." There was a terri- 
ble emphasis in the almost entire unanimity with which 
this retaliatory sentence was pronounced against th? 



286 THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 

ex~king and his family. At the passage of this decree 
a threatening allusion was made to the Bonaparte 
family by some members of the Assembly. Three 
members of the Bonaparte family — Pierre Napoleon, 
son of Lncien : Jerome J^apoleon, son of Jerome; and 
Napoleon Achille Murat, son of Caroline Bonaparte, 
and all nephews of the Emperor — had entered France 
immediately after the Revolution, and had been elected 
delegates to the National Assembly. They manifested 
great excitement on the occasion, and asserted theii 
rights of citizenship on the ground of their election to 
that body by the people. There was no desire, how- 
ever, to exclude them from France, Louis Napoleon 
only being the object of republican jealousy, he having 
on two occasions attempted to make himself Emperor 
of France. The proposition thus made in the Assem- 
bly, drew the following letter from Louis Napoleon ; 

TO THE N"ATIONAL ASSEMBLY. 

" London, 23rd May, 1848. 

" Citizen Repkesentatives, — I learn, by the news- 
papers of the 22d inst., that it has been proposed in 
the National Assembly to retain against me alone, 
the law of exile which has been in force against 
my family since the year 1816 ; I now apply to the 
representatives of the people to know why I have 
merited this penalty? 

" Can it be for having always publicly declared that, 
in my opinion, France was not the property {apanage) 
either of an individual, or of a family, or of a party? 

" Can it be because, desiring to accomplish the tri- 
umph, without anarchy or license, of the principles of 
national sovereignty, w^hich alone can put an end to 
our dissensions, I have been twice the victim of my 
hostility to a government which you have overthrown? 

^^ Can it be for having conserited, out of deference »<) 



THE PEINCE A DELEGATE. 287 

the wisli of the provisional government, to return to 
a foreign country after having hastened to Paris upon 
the first news of the Revolution? Can it be because I 
disinterestedly refused seats in the Assembly which 
were proffered to me, resolved not to return to France 
until the new constitution should be agreed upon, and 
the republic firmly established? 

"The same reasons which have made me take up 
arms against the government of Louis Philippe, would 
lead me, if my services were required, to devote 
myself to the defense of the Assembly, the result of 
universal suffrage. 

"In the presence of a king elected by two hundred 
dej^uties, I might have recollected that I was heir to 
an empire founded by the consent of four millions of 
Frenchmen. In the presence of the national sove- 
reignty I can, nor will claim more than my rights as a 
French citizen ; but there, I will demand them w^ith 
that energy which an honest heart derives from the 
knowledge of never having done any thing to render it 
unworthy of its country. 

" Receive, gentlemen, tlie assurance of my sentiments 
of high esteem. Your fallen citizen, 

"JN^APOLEON Louis Bonaparte." 

In the mean time elections had been held in various 
parts of France, to fill vacancies in the E^ational As- 
sembly. Louis Napoleon was unexpectedly elected a 
delegate from five different departments. He ad- 
dressed the following letter to those who had honored 
him with their suffrages : 

London, June 11, 1848. 

"CiTizRNS, — Your suffrages fill me with gratitude. 
This mark of sympathy, which is the more flattering 
as I had not solicited it, found me at a moment when I 
was regretting that I should remain inactive while my 
country is in want of the co-operation of all her chil- 
dren, in order to pass out of the difiiculties in which 
eUe is now placed- 



288 THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 

"The confidence you have reposed in me imposes 
duties which I shall know how to fulfill. Our in- 
terests, our sentiments, our aspirations, are the same. 
A native of Paris, and now a representative of the 
people, I shall join mj efibrts to those of mj colleagues 
in order to re-establish order, public credit, and indus- 
try ; to insure peaceful relations abroad ; to consoli- 
date democratic institutions ; and to conciliate interests 
which now seem to be adverse to one another, simply 
because they suspect one another, and clash, instead of 
marching together toward a single object — that of the 
prosperity and grandeur of the country. 

"The people have been free since the 24:th of Febru- 
ary. It may obtain any thing, (it requires?) without 
recourse to brute force. Let us, then, rally ourselves 
round the altars of the country, under the flag of the 
republic, and let us present to the world the grand 
spectacle of a people regenerating itself without vio- 
lence, without civil contests, without anarchy. 

" Eeceive, my dear fellow-citizens, the assurance of 
my devotedness, and of my sympathies. 

"Louis IS^apoleon Bonaparte." 

Some days afterward, Louis Is'apoleon learned that 
the hostility against him in the Assembly was so great 
that he could not safely take his seat as a delegate, and 
he therefore wrote a letter resigning the place to which 
he had been elected. He said — "I wish that my dis- 
interested nes;^ should prove the sincerity of my patriot- 
ism ; I wish that those who charge me with ambition 
sliould be convinced of their error." The next month 
he was elected a delegate from the island of Corsica, 
but he again declined. In August, however, he deter- 
mined to become a candidate at the elections called to 
fill vacancies that had occurred in the Assembly. The 
result of the election was, that the Prince was returned 
fov the department of the Seine, (Paris,) by 110jT5^ 



THE PRtNdELY DELEGATE RECEIVED. 28J> 

votes, and also from Tonne, Moselle, Charente, and 
Corsica, in all of which he received large majorities. 
He decided to sit for Paris his native city. 

It was on the 26th of September that Louis !N"a- 
poleon Bonaparte took his seat in the National Assem- 
bly. He had been elected amid such manifestations 
of popular enthusiasm as to have strengthened the un- 
easiness and deepened the distrust with which the heir 
of the Emperor had been viewed by the republican 
party. It was resolved, however, to treat the Prince 
with perfect indifference. When Louis ITapoleon en- 
tered the hall he was greeted with no friendly welcome. 
Quietly, almost timidly, he crept to the seat which was 
held vacant by his old tutor, M. Yiellard, whose affec 
tionate smile and pressure of the hand were the only 
demonstrations of kindness that had cheered this 
hitherto unfortunate exile. As soon as the president 
proclaimed that the citizen Louis JSTapoleon Bonaparte 
was a representative of the people, he mounted the 
tribune without a mark of encouragement. His self- 
possession did not forsake him as he proceeded to read 
from a written paper, which, in concise and appropriate 
language, declared that he owed too deep a debt of 
gratitude to the republic, which had given to him, after 
thirty-three years of proscription and exile, a country 
and the rights of citizenship, not to devote himself to 
its service. 

Skillful, yet simple, as was this appeal, it did not 

break the icy reserve which had been adopted. It 

was expected and hoped that he would have made bis 

appearance in the midst of some theatrical display, 

iiome miserable parody of his wonderful uncle's 

19 



290 THE UEVOLUTlON OF 1848. 

maiiuer, that would have raised a laugh fatal to his 
popularity. He did quite the reverse. His manner was 
unassuming, his remarks were full of spirit and dignity. 

Shortly after Louis ISTapoleon took his seat in the 
Assembly, a discussion arose upon the articles in the 
constitution, relative to the presidency. One member 
proposed the insertion of a proviso declaring that no 
member of the families who had reigned over France 
should be elected to that office. This proposition 
created much agitation, but it was finally withdrawn, 
in consequence of the solemn and repeated assurances 
of Louis I^apoleon and the other members of the Bo- 
naparte family in the Assembly, that they were de- 
voted to the republic, and had no ambitious views to 
serve by its subversion. 

In his address to the Assembly, on first taking his 
seat as one of that body, he had said — "My conduct, 
you may be certain, shall ever be guided by a respect- 
ful devotion to the law. It will prove, to the confusion 
of those who have attempted to slander me, that no 
man is more devoted than I am to the defense of order 
and the consolidation of the Eepublic." When it was 
proposed to exclude both Bonapartes and Bourbons 
from eligibility to the presidency of France, Louis Na- 
poleon, with apparent humility, declared, "that he was 
too grateful to the nation for restoring to him his rights 
as a citizen, to have any other ambition." This assur- 
ance being given, the proposition was withdrawn. In 
another address to the Assembly, he exclaimed, — 
"How little do those who charge me with ambition 
know my heart!" Yet two weeks afterward Louis 
IsTapoleon was publicly announced as a candidate for 
the presidency. 



ADDRESS TO THE FRENCH PEOPLE. 291 

The presidential election was to be held on the 10th 
of December. Louis l^apoleon was among the candi- 
dates, and he lost no time in issuing the following 
address to the French people. 

"Fellow Citizens, — In order to recall me from 
exile, you elected me a representative of the people. 
On the eve of jour proceeding to the election of chief 
magistrate of the republic, my name presents itself to 
you as a symbol of order and security. 

" These testimonies of a confidence so honorable, are 
due, I am aware, much more to the name which I bear 
than to myself, who have as yet done nothing for my 
country; — but the more the memory of the Emperor 
protects me, and inspires your suffrages, the more I 
feel myself called upon to make known to you my 
sentiments and principles. There must not be any 
thing equivocal in the relations between us. 

"I am not an ambitious man, who dreams at one time 
of the empire and of war ; at another of the adoption 
of subversive theories. Educated in free countries, 
and in the school of misfortune, I shall always remain 
faithful to the duties which your suffrages, and the will 
of the Assembly, mky impose upon me. 

"If I am elected president, I should not shrink from 
any danger, from any sacrifice, to defend society, 
which has been so audaciously attacked. I should 
devote myself wholly, without reserve, to the confirm- 
ing of a republic, which has shown itself wise by its 
laws, honest in its intentions, great and powerful by 
its acts. 

"I pledge my honor to leave to my successor, at the 
end of four years, the executive powers strengthened, 
liberty intact, and a real progress accomplished. 

"Whatever may be the result of the election, I shall 
bow to the will of the people ; and I pledge before- 
hand, my co-operation with any strong and honest 
government which shall re-establish order in principles 
as well as in things ; which shall efiiciently protect our 
religion, our families, and our properties — the eternal 



293 THE HKVOLUTIOH OF 1848. 

basis of every social community ; whicli shall attempt 
all practicable reform, assuage animosities, reconcile 
parties, and thus permit a country rendered anxious 
by circumstances, to count upon the morrow. 

"To re-establish order is to restore confidence — to 
repair, by means of credit, the temporary depreciation 
of resources — to restore financial positions and revive 
commerce. 

"To protect the religion and the rights of families, is 
to insure the freedom of public v^orship and education. 

"To protect property is to maintain the inviolability 
of the fruits of every man's labor ; it is to guarantee 
the independence and the security of possession, an 
indispensable foundation for all civil liberties. 

"As to the reforms which are possible, the following 
are those which appear to me to be the most urgent : — 

"To adopt all those measures of economy, which, 
without occasioning disorder in the public service, will 
permit a reduction of those taxes which press most 
heavily on the people — to encourage enterprises which, 
while they develop agricultural wealth, may, both in 
France airid Algeria, give work to hands at present 
unoccupied — to provide for the relief of laborers in 
their old age, by means of provident institutions — to 
introduce into industrial laws, modifications which may 
tend not to ruin the rich for the gain of the poor, but 
to establish the well-being of each upon the prosperity 
of all. 

" To restrict within just limits the number of em- 
ployments which shall depend upon the government, 
and which often convert a free people into a nation 
of beggars. 

"To avoid that deplorable tendency which leads the 
state to do that which individuals may do as well, and 
better, for themselves. The centralization of interests 
and enterprises is in the nature of despotism : the 
nature of a republic is to reject monopolies. 

" Finally, to protect the liberty of the press from the 
two excesses which endanger it at present — that of 
arbitrary authority on the one hand, and of its own 
licentiousness on the other. 



aENEEAL CAVAlGNAd. ^9^ 

" With war we can have no relief to our ills. Peace, 
therefore, would be the clearest object of my desire. 
France, at the time of her first Eevolution, was war- 
like, because others forced her to be so. Threatened 
with invasion, she replied bj conquest. isTow she is 
not threatened, she is free to concentrate all her re- 
sources to pacific measures of amelioration, without 
abandoning a loyal and resolute policy. A great 
nation ought to be silent, or never to speak in vain. 

"To have regard for the national dignity is to have 
regard for the army, whose patriotism, so noble and 
so disinterested, has frequently been neglected. We 
ought, while we maintain the fundamental laws which 
are the strength of our military organization, to alle- 
viate, and not aggravate, the burden of the conscrip- 
tion. We ought to take care of the present and future 
interests, not only of the ofiicers, but likewise of the 
non-commissioned ofiicers and privates, and prepare a 
certain means of subsistence for men who have long 
served under our colors. 

"The republic ought to be generous, and have faith 
in its future prospects ; and, for my part, I, who have 
suff'ered exile and captivity, appeal with all my warm- 
est aspirations to that day when the country may, 
without danger, put a stop to all proscriptions, and 
efface the last traces of our civil discords. 

"Such, my dear fellow-citizens, are the ideas which 
I should bring to bear upon the functions of govern- 
ment, if you were to call me to the presidency of 
the republic. 

"The task is a difficult one — the mission immense. 
I know it. But I should not despair of accomplishing 
it ; inviting to my aid, without distinction of party, all 
men who, by their high intelligence or their probity, 
have recommended themselves to public esteem. 

"For indeed, when a man has the honor to be at the 
head of the French nation, there is an infallible way to 
succeed, and that is to desire to do so. 

"Louis IS'apoleon Bonapabte." 

The remaining candidates for the presidency were 



^H tfiE feEtOttmOlT Ot 1848. 

General Cavaignac, Lamartine, Ledru-Eollin, and Kas- 
pail. A few days showed that there were only two 
who conld dispute the great prize — General Cavaignac 
and Louis Napoleon. The first had all the claims 
arising from undoubted personal merit and eminent 
services to his country. The other bore a name dear 
to the French people ; and, if he had committed great 
faults, he had paid the atonement of great sufferings, 
which he had borne patiently. "Within the ^ve months 
that General Cavaignac governed France, he had 
given proofs of every qualification necessary to the 
head of a republic. He had come before the nation an 
almost unknown man. He had never held a chief 
command in Algeria before February ; but as Colonel 
and then Brigadier Cavaignac, he had been esteemed 
as a highly meritorious officer. He was a man who 
never sought to push himself into notice or to attract 
attention to his acts. He drew up a report once of an 
affair in which he had been severely wounded, without 
mentioning his wound. Appointed governor of Al- 
geria by the provisional government, he set at once 
about his duties, and it was remarked that the first 
paper which he issued on his appointment was of a 
singularly superior kind. Called home to take the 
post of minister of war, he applied himself to the duties 
of his department as if he had no other object to at- 
tend to. He sought not to attract attention to himself 
by speeches, and he dreamed not of intrigues. When, 
to his clear judgment, a battle was impending, he 
prepared to meet it; when it came, he mounted his 
horse and inspected the barricades with that concen- 
trated intensity of purpose which would not allow him 
to ward off the balls flying about his head. 



TfiE i*EESIDENTIAL ELECTION. 295 

Elevated to the head of the government, he applied 
himself to the study of foreign affairs, and having 
satisfied his mind that peace was for the interests of 
France, he determined that no earthly consideration 
should induce him to entangle the country in a war, 
so long as her honor was not affected. Taking the 
lead in every debate, he never said a word more than 
was essential for the purpose of making known the 
views of government. Nor would he have spoken at 
all if he did not deem it to be his duty to accept, 
frankly, the burden that had been placed on his 
shoulders. Regarding situations exactly as they were, 
he recognized that, pending the proposition of the con- 
stitution, his government was only provisional ; that 
the Assembly was master, and that he should, as in 
duty bound, execute the wishes of the Assembly so 
long as he held its confidence. 

The election of General Cavaignac to the presidency 
of the republic was by his partisans deemed secure. 
He was a man whom no situation had taken by sur- 
prise ; and as all situations had been met and filled 
with perfect ability, the measure of such a man's ca- 
pacity could not even yet be said to have been reached. 
IS'ew trials were before the republic, and there was 
the man, who, holding a true, straightforward course, 
and taking things as he found them, could yet adapt 
himself to an encounter with any difficulty with mar- 
velous plasticity. At the prime of life — tall, well- 
formed, and dignified ; with the proud head of a 
Coriolanus, and the sensibility of the stoical Brutus. 
His quickness to feel suspicion or slight, explains why 
he shunned occasions for display. This characteristic 



296 I'tJE BEVOLXJTIOi^ OF IM. 

quality explains, too, Ms tenure of office in times so 
difficult ; for his readiness to resign power secured 
power in his hands. Thus, brave, proud, sensitive, 
dignified, able, and unostentatious ; full of republican 
zeal, and yet anxious for the maintenance of all social 
rights, as consecrated by the sentiments, habits, reli- 
gion, and laws of society ; a moral and military disci- 
plinarian ; it would seem as if providence had sent the 
right man at the right time to the French people, and 
they rejected him. Although rejecting, they revered 
and esteemed him. 

The election day arrived. The weather was of ex- 
traordinary clearness and beauty for the season ; the 
animal spirits of the people rose cheerfully. The name 
of l^apoleon proved a charm for the peasantry, who 
marched to the ballot-boxes with outspread banners. 
In the leading towns, Cavaignac was well supported ; 
but the farmers and peasantry voted almost unani- 
mously for the heir of the Emperor. It was calculated 
that it would take a fortnight, at least, to examine the 
votes ; but the result was not doubtful from the first 
hour. Conjectures of an injurious character to Gen- 
eral Cavaignac were hazarded by people who did 
not know the man ; the unworthiness of these asper- 
sions was soon demonstrated. On the evening of the 
20th of December, an unusual movement was observed 
in Paris. Troops, appearing in all directions, were 
seen converging to one point — the N"ational Assembly. 
The avenues to the Assembly bristled with bayonets, 
and were animated by cavalry. It had been resolved 
upon suddenly to proclaim the president of the re- 
public, without waiting until all the votes had been 
counted. The reason assigned for this step was, to 



RESULT OF THE ELECTION. 297 

defeat by anticipation the suspected designs of a party, 
to carry Louis J^apoleon from the Assembly to the 
Tuileries, and there abrogate the oath to the republic, 
by proclaiming him Emperor. But the ceremonial of 
inaugurating the newly elected president was not at- 
tended by any disturbance. On counting the votes, it 
was found that 7,327,345 had been cast, and that of 
these — 

The Citizen Louis Napoleon Bonaparte had obtained 5,434,226 

TheCitizen Cavaignac 1,448,107 

TheCitizen Ledru-Rollin 370,110 

The Citizen Raspail 36,920 

The Citizen Lamavtine 17,810 

General Cavaignac rose, and without preface, 
handed in the resignation of ministers, adding simply, 
" I came also to resign into the hands of the Assembly 
the power with which it was good enough to invest 
me. The Assembly will comprehend, much better 
than I can express, the sentiments of gratitude that its 
confidence and kindness have ineifaceably engraved 
on my memory." A burst of enthusiastic plaudits 
accompanied the gallant General to his seat. The suc- 
cessful candidate was then proclaimed president of the 
republic, and after a short address, delivered with 
fervor — an address conceived in the most unostenta- 
tious language, and breathing of peace and concord, 
Louis Kapoleon descended from the tribune and 
walked to the place where sat his honored rival, whose 
hand he respectfully took and 2)ressed, amidst renewed 
applause. The Assembly needed no fresh proof of the 
magnanimity of Cavaignac ; but the behavior of Louis 
I^apoleon at this, the first hour of his triumph, pro- 
duced a most favorable impression, and tended to 
remove many prejudices, 13^ 



OHAPTEE YI. 

THE BONAPARTE FAMILY. 

The history of France, during the past sixty years, 
bears a striking resemblance to those fabrications of 
oriental genius, in which human events are continually 
under the guidance of spirits of the air — in which 
fantastic fallacies are erected by a spell, and the treas- 
ures of the earth developed by the wave of a wand-— 
in which the mendicant of this hour is exalted into the 
prince of the next ; and while the wonder still glitters 
before the eye, another sign of the necromancer dis- 
solves the whole pageant into air again. A king of 
France is seized by his subjects and beheaded. The 
country is torn in pieces by fierce and conflicting fac- 
tions. Everywhere confusion, bloodshed and sufiering, 
are witnessed. Suddenly an unknown stripling rushed 
forward, collected the scattered fragments of the Eevo- 
lution and combined them in a new and powerful 
shape, changed anarchy into order, and subdued all 
factions to his will. Through the clouds and tempests 
of the Revolution, he sprung into the highest position 
of power. Pkicing an imperial crown upon his own 
brow, he led his triumphant armies over all Europe. 
Impetuous and daring, from the first hour of his public 
life, the government of this imperial despot was, like 
himself, a model of fierce and indomitable energy 



INSTABILITY OF THE MONAECHT. 299 

Whatever was to him an object of ambition, was in- 
jstantlj in his grasp, and whatever he seized was made 
the instrument of a fresh seizure. He was apparently 
the agent of Providence for the punishment of a long 
course of kingly guilt. He crushed the monarchs of 
Europe in bloody encounters ; captured their capitals ; 
plundered their provinces, and humbled their pride by 
contemptuous and bitter conditions of peace. But 
when his destined work was done — when the victims 
were broken on the wheel, the wheel and the execu- 
tioner were alike hurried from the scene. The man 
who had guided the empire of France in its track of 
conquest and devastation — the soul of all its strength 
and of its ambition — was swept away. History has 
no record of so much. power, so widely distributed, 
and apparently so fixed above all the ordinary casual- 
ties of the world, so instantly and completely over- 
thrown. This man of boundless but brief grandeur, 
died a captive on a distant rock, but his sepulcher was 
placed in the midst of that people so slow to learn that 
ambition always pays for its splendor by its calami- 
ties ; that the strength of a nation is in the justice of 
its councils; and that "he who uses the sword shall 
perish by the sword." Upon the fall of I^apoleon, the 
family overthrown and driven into exile by the Revolu- 
tion, was again restored to the throne of France. But 
they were permitted to occupy it for only a brief period. 
Scarcely fifteen years had passed away when another 
king of France was dethroned. So sudden was the 
Revolution, so unexpected the catastrophe, that the 
king apprehended no danger until his power was gone. 
He left the card table, to which he had sat down in 



800 THE BONAPARTE FAMILY. 

fancied security, to flee from his palace and from his 
kingdom. France accepted another king. He passed 
the seventeen years of his reign in carefully fortifying 
his throne. But one morning, when his power was ap- 
parently the greatest, and when his dynasty seemed to 
be firmly established, the door of the breakfast room, 
where he was calmly seated with his family, was thrown 
open and two men entered, pale as ghosts. They were 
ministers of state. Their news was as unexpected as 
it was momentous. Discontent prevailed in the city ; 
the populace were out ; the soldiers were disarmed ; 
the king's infuriated subjects were approaching the 
very apartment in which he had but just enjoyed his 
meal. It was enough. "Let us go," exclaimed the 
monarch, and leaning heavily upon the queen, whose 
head was erect and haughty, he hurried away. He 
escaped from his capital. Then shaving off his whisk- 
ers, putting on green spectacles, burying his face in his 
handkerchief, speaking English, and calling himself 
"William Smith, he embarked for England. The other 
members of the royal family crept into hiding places, 
until they could find opportunities to escape over the 
frontiers. Is this history or fiction ? reality or illusion ? 
The most substantial power fades suddenly away, as 
if by the enchantment of the genii of the "Arabian 
Nights" — kings, to human view, firmly seated on their 
thrones, become, by the changes of an hour, proscribed 
and hunted fugitives — friendless and impoverished 
exiles are as rapidly and unexpectedly snatched from 
their obscurity and poverty, and invested with supreme 
power and unlimited wealth ! The kings of the earth 
are not commonly undone by a single blow ; kingdoms 



THE EMPRESS MAKIA LOUISA. 301 

do uot change their dynasties without a struggle. But 
the four diadems of the Napoleon race, as well as those 
of the Bourbon and Orleans families, fell from their 
wearers' brows with scarcely a touch from the hands 
of man. 

We have followed one of the Bonaparte family, from 
the splendor of his uncle's imperial court into a long 
and unfortunate exile, and from exile back again to 
the highest dignity in his native France : it will not 
be uninteresting to follow the varying fortunes of the 
other members of the Bonaparte family, scattered as 
they were, at the time of J^apoleon's death, over all 
parts of the civilized world. And first, of Maria 
Louisa, the wife of the Emperor, and her infant son, 
the King of Rome. 

Maria Louisa at the time of her marriage with ^NTa- 
poleon, in 1810, was nineteen years of age, tall and 
fair, but not beautiful. She had been taught, like all 
princesses, to embroider, to paint, and to play on the 
piano. Beyond this she was educated in little else 
than hatred of Bonaparte and the French; for the 
king-slayers had been twice at the gates of her father. 
Austria had twice lost all, and had nothing to give, 
when the lion roared for more prey, except her own 
flesh and blood. So Maria Louisa was yielded up. 
The mild creature never had an independent wish of 
her own ; she never knew how to show any reluctance 
to other people's demands. She had been taught to 
hate, and she hated ; she was now bidden to love, and 
she married. When, in 1814, dangers and disasters 
were thickening around the devoted head of her im- 
perial husband, she hastened the catastrophe by fleeing 



302 THE BONAPAKTE FAMILY. 

from France with her reluctant infant. From this 
moment she considered herself to be virtually divorced 
from him. The idea of sharing his misfortunes, and 
of soothing his agony, never entered her head. He 
became once more the arch-iiend and ogre of her child- 
hood. His solicitations that she should join him were 
disregarded. From the first instant of her departure 
from Paris, no symptom of affection for her husband, 
or sympathy for his fate, was witnessed in her. After 
her return to Austria, her time was spent in the most 
frivolous occupations. She even joined her relations 
in their clamorous rejoicings at the enemy'' s downfall. 
Her aunt, Maria Caroline of N"aples, gave her a hint as 
to the propriety of tying up her bed-clothes, to let her- 
self down from a window, and of joining her husband 
at Elba. But Maria- Louisa evinced no desire to cling 
to the wreck of departed greatness. In the duchy of 
Parma, over which the allied powers had promised to 
make her sovereign, all her ambition was centered. 
She dwelt, with an inconceivable fondness, on the pros- 
pects of unshared sovereignty ; and her anxiety for the 
exercise of undivided dominion was increased by the 
artful postponement of its enjoyment. The allies re- 
quired her to divest herself of her proud titles; to 
forget her husband ; to deliver all his letters into her 
father's hands ; to cease from all correspondence with 
him ; to surrender her son to an Austrian governess ; 
to renounce, in his name, all rights of succession to the 
French throne ; to rebaptize him as Charles Joseph, 
Duke of Keichstadt ; and to suffer him to linger be- 
hind, in a kind of imprisonment, at Schonbrunn. Her 
obedience outdid even the immoderateness of their 



UABIA LOUISA. 303 

demands. She was, above all things, eager to advance 
her prospects as a candidate for an Italian principality. 

In 1814, while J^apoleon was at Elba, she was permit- 
ted to go, unattended by her son, to the baths of Aix, 
in Savoy. There she was tempted into a career of 
profligacy. Her father, who had sacrificed her heart 
as a bride, seemed not unwilling to even immolate her 
fame as a wife. All that remained pure and ingenuous 
in the character of the ex-empress was corrupted among 
the pleasures and dissipations at Aix. She became 
discreditably intimate with the Count of JSTeipperg, a 
Hungarian nobleman. In one of his early campaigns 
the count had lost an eye ; but that honorable wound 
was carefully covered by a black band drawn round 
the brow in the shape of a diadem, and there re- 
mained charm enough in the one eye he had left to 
drive J^apoleon's image from the heart of Maria- 
Louisa. As her private secretary, the count was 
brought into the closest intimacy with his royal mis- 
tress. In consultations of state, (for the duchess busied 
herself much respecting her future subjects,) as well as 
in parties of pleasure, riding, dancing, or traveling, 
they were inseparable. She was encouraged in this 
career of folly, not only by the courts of Europe, but 
by her own father. In her and in her sickly son, the 
Duke of Reichstadt, were centered the hopes of the 
Bonapartists. As a virtuous woman she would have 
still been formidable ; but she soon ceased to be 
virtuous. 

Her base intrigues with Neipperg continued at 
Yienna, wnere the count accompanied his sovereign 
lady in September, 1814. A few months afterward 



304 THE BONAPARTE FAMILY. 

Napoleon was again triumphant in Paris. Maria 
Louisa was in a fever of anxiety about her hard-won 
Italian sovereignty, which that untimely invasion 
might wrench from her grasp. Under that apprehen- 
sion she solemnly disclaimed all knowledge of, or 
participation in, her husband's enterprise, and im- 
plored the protection of her father and the allies against 
him, as against her most dangerous enemy. She re- 
jected all his advances, revealed and frustrated an 
attempt made by his Mends to carry her off with her 
child, and then sat dowL to embroider banners for the 
Austrian regiments warring against him ! 

In 1816, surrounded by pomp and magnificence, 
with her one-eyed secretary by her side, Maria Louisa 
was permitted to enter her insignificant principality. 

The duchy of Parma, Placenza, and Guastalla is one 
of the most fertile and beautiful districts in the valley 
of the Po. It is about 2,200 square miles in extent, 
and the population has never exceeded half a million. 
In the middle ages it consisted of three petty states : 
they shed their best blood in endless as well as useless 
feuds, till, after passing from one tyrant's hands to 
another's — from Correggio to Yisconti, and from 
Yisconti to Este — they were finally united into an 
independent duchy by Pope Paul III., who invested 
his illegitimate son, Pier Luigi Farnese, with the 
sovereignty ; and although th^tt son of a pope did not 
fare too well at the hands of his subjects, who strangled 
and flung him from a high window of the citadel of 
Placenza into the moat beneath, yet the sovereignty 
remained in possession of his descendants, some of 
whom became famous, or infamous, in history. Like 



MA11.A LOUISA. 305 

most other Italian reigning families, the Farnese be- 
came extinct from their impotence, occasioned by 
habitual debauchery, in 1748. The ill-fated duchy 
became a bone of contention for all the powers of 
Europe, and had, in the end, to pay most of the expense 
of the wars it had given rise to. It was finally 
adjudged to belong to Don Philip, one of the Spanish 
Bourbons. Don Philip having broken his neck in the 
chase, Don Ferdinand, his son and successor, called 
the bell-ringer from his partiality for that pious and 
healthy exercise, found himself involved in the great 
catastrophe of the French invasion, and, in 1802, his 
duchy was united to France. To the prejudice of the 
heir of Don Ferdinand, an illegitimate child, the duchy 
was bestowed upon Maria Louisa. Her reign was 
one of gayety and extravagance. She lavished large 
sums upon the erection of a theater, and was proud of 
possessing an unrivaled orchestra ; she bid a cheer- 
ful welcome to all the strolling fiddlers and play- 
ers who applied to her for patronage. She took an 
active part in all the gorgeous processions, and was 
the soul of the carnival. Her theaters, her menageries 
and aviaries ; her superb villas and magnificent train ; 
her regiment of grenadiers ; her profuse liberality to 
mimes and charlatans, — before long exhausted her 
revenue. Already, at her arrival, the new duchess 
had been preceded by a decree raising a sum of 
$000,000, with which her subjects were to pay for the 
honor of receiving an Austrian archduchess for their 
liege lady. Ever afterward, money went over to 
Austria, under a thousand pretexts, and without pre- 
texts. It was now a tribute of vassalage, now a 
20 



306 THE BONAPAETE FAMILY. 

bargain of allegiance. Parmesan manufactures were 
closed, as injurious to Austrian industry. Parmesan 
steamboats on the Po were stopped, as encroaching on 
Austrian commerce. Ignorance and filial submissive- 
ness might account for this mismanagement of her 
subjects' interests. She knew she could do no better. 
But the amount of her own prodigality, and the foolish 
expenses of her endless journeyings, were not less fatal 
to the state than the insatiate cupidity of Austria. 
She was never long in her own dominions. iJTow she 
had her son to embrace at Munich ; now a new gown 
to try on at Milan ; then a wedding to attend, or a 
christening, or a funeral ; and wherever she went, 
there followed a long caravan of dames, pages, grooms, 
lapdogs and monkeys. She went through Europe as 
an empress. Newspapers expatiated on her splendid 
attire and her unbounded liberalities. No one knew 
what terrible grinding all this extravagance inflicted 
on her people. 

The scandalous intimacy of Maria Louisa with 
Neipperg was continued until she heard of the death 
of Napoleon at St. Helena, when she married her 
one-eyed lover. Three children were the offspring of 
this connection. If we are to believe all the scandals 
current at Parma, Neipperg had no easy time with his 
mistress. Her confessor, a German youth, stout and 
rosy, was made a bishop to remove him from his too 
fond penitent. Captain Crotti, a handsome Italian, 
and Mac Aulay, an ardent Irishman, it was thought 
judicious to remove from the neighborhood of the 
susceptible lady.' But Neipperg died in 1828, and 
Maria Louisa was free again to select her favorites. 



THE SON OF BONAPAHTE. S07 

During the revolutions of 1838, the successor of 
ItsTeipperg, for the time being, was a Baron Yerclein, 
who was far from being popular with the Parmeso. 
He and his mistress were driven from the duchj. 
She was finally permitted to return, but the favorite 
was not. Instead, she was constrained to accept of 
one Mistrali, as principal minister of state. This 
able and conscientious man undertook to repair the 
shattered finances of the principality ; and by a wise 
and firm rule he got his sovereign out of debt. The 
duchess herself was the first victim of the minister's 
economical schemes. He reduced her household ; 
bullied her singers and fiddlers from the court ; car- 
ried havoc and devastation among her parrots an-d 
monkeys ; sold her diamonds and melted her jewels. 
The results of this policy was an unembarrassed ex- 
chequer. Maria Louisti would have grumbled, but she 
dared not. 

In this state of distress she bethought herself of the 
priests. Like many a wanton, she was destined to die 
a bigot. In 1834 she grew devout and married 
Bombelles, an old dandy, at the same time. She 
spent the remainder of her days mostly at Schon- 
brunn, for her subjects hated her too cordially to 
make her residence in Parma agreeable to her. She 
died in the year 1848. 

The life of young Napoleon makes but a meager little 
story, interesting, one might say, only from its very 
insignificance. As if to sever him completely from 
all the circumstances that had marked his birth, he 
had hardly set his foot in Austria when the very name 
he bore was taken from him. During his mother's 



308 THE BONAPAETE ,5'AMILT. 

life, he was to depend on her, and her only ; after her 
death, he was to enter on the possession of a property 
assigned to him bj his grandfather — an estate in 
Bohemia, with a revenue of about $100,000. In the 
mean time, laying aside his baptismal name of Na- 
poleon-Frangois, he was to assume the name and title 
of Francis Joseph Charles, Duke of Keichstadt, rank- 
ing, by virtue of that title, among the nobility of the 
Austrian empire, immediately after the princes of the 
imperial family, the archdukes of Austria. 

Only three years of age when he went with his 
mother to reside at Schonbrunn, the young Duke of 
Reichstadt spent the whole remainder of his life either 
there or at Vienna ; only on one or two occasions 
traveling from either beyond the distance of a few 
miles. By his grandfather, the Emperor, as well as by 
all the other members of the royal family, he seems 
to have been always treated with extreme kindness. 
After the departure of his mother for her Italian states, 
he was committed to the care of various masters, 
under the superintendence of an Austrian, nobleman. 
Regarding his early education, only two facts of any 
interest are mentioned : his excessive reluctance at 
first to learn German, which, however, soon became 
more his own than French ; and his fondness for his- 
torical reading, and especially for books relating to the 
career of his father. As a boy, he was, on the whole, 
dull, grave, and mirthless ; but docile and affectionate. 

The news of his father's death, which occurred when 
he was ten years of age, is said to have produced a 
visible effect on him. It was evident, indeed, that the 
"boy, young as he was, had been brooding in secret 



THE SON OF BONAPAETE. 309 

over the mystery of his own changed condition, and 
cherishing, as well as he could, the thought of his con- 
nection with the extraordinary being whom he could 
dimly recollect as his father ; whose busts and portraits 
he could still see ; and who, as they tried to explain to 
him, was now living shut up in an island on the other 
side of the earth, whither the nations of Europe had 
conspired to send him for their own safety. This 
thought of his father became the boy's single passion ; 
and when he could no longer think of that father as 
still existing on the earth, his respect for his memory 
amounted to a worship. Every book that could tell 
him any thing about his father, he devoured with 
eagerness ; and if he chanced to hear of the arrival 
of any one at Vienna who had had personal relations 
with the Emperor, he was uneasy till he had seen him. 
At last, to gratify this anxiety for information about 
his father, his tutors, at his grandfather's command, 
began to instruct him systematically in modern history 
and politics ; concealing from him nothing that could 
enlighten him as to the Teal course of his father's life, 
and its effects on the condition of Europe, and only 
adding such comments and expositions as might make 
him aware, at the same time, in what points his father 
was thought to be reprehensible. Perplexed by such 
lessons in history, the poor boy did his best to come to 
the right conclusion, and to express himself judiciously 
to his tutors regarding what he was taught to con- 
sider his father's errors and excesses. In all cases of 
feeling and instinct, however, the memory of his 
father prevailed. The very books that his father had 
likedj such as Tasso and Ossian, became, for that 



310 THE BONAPARTE FAMILT. 

reason, his favorites. His father's campaigns and 
dispatches he made a subject of diligent studj^ using 
them as texts for his own military lessons. In short, 
before he had attained his seventeenth year, he had 
read and re-read every thing that had been written 
regarding iN'apoleon, and had fixed in his memory all 
the most minute particulars relating either to his 
military or political life, the names of his generals, his 
chief battles, and the various incidents in his long 
career, from his birth in Corsica to his burial in St. 
Helena. One point in this great history he would 
dwell on with special interest — that, amid universal 
acclamations, he himself had come into the world the 
unconscious heir of a mighty empire. 

This brooding on the past naturally assumed, as he 
grew up, the form of a restless anxiety, respecting the 
future. That he, the son of Kapoleon, was no common 
person ; that, as the possessor of a great name, superior 
actions and qualifications would be required of him ; 
that in some way or other, he must take part in the 
affairs of Europe — such was the idea that inevitably 
took possession of him. The pedantry of his teachers 
appears to have fostered it to an undue extent. If, for 
example, the poor youth contracted an admiration for 
the poet Byron, his teachers were at hand to criticise 
the poet for him, and reduce his opinion to the just 
shape and standard, lest he should commit what in his 
case would be the signal impropriety of exaggerated 
praise. If, again, he was seen to be falling in love 
with a lady of his grandfather's court, they were at 
hand to reason him out of the affair by considerations 
of what was due to his peculiar situation, and his 



THE SON OF NAPOLEON. 311 

importance in the public eye. With this notion of the 
peculiarity of his position brandished before him from 
morning to night, he would go moping about the 
imperial court, an amiable youth, the prey of unknown 
cares. And what, after all, was the peculiarity of his 
situation, except extreme insignificance ? A pensioner, 
in the mean time, on the imperial bounty, ultimately 
the mere possessor of some Bohemian estates, doomed 
to inactivity by the misfortune of too great a name, — 
was there not a mockery in all this solicitude of which 
he found himself the object? Haunted, it would ap- 
pear, by some such feeling, and yet carried forward by 
the restless sense that he must do something or other 
to merit his name, he seemed to have grasped eagerly 
at the only chance of activity that was presented to 
him — military promotion in his grandfather's ser- 
vice. Hence the assiduity with which he pursued his 
military studies, and the regularity with which he pre- 
sented himself on horseback at all reviews and parades; 
the Yiennese pointing him out to strangers on such 
occasions, as the son of IS^apoleon. When, at last, after 
going through the previous grades, he was permitted 
by his grandfather to assume the rank and uniform of 
a lieutenant-colonel, his delight was unbounded. For 
three days the poor youth appeared at the head of his 
regiment, giving the word of command ; on the fourth 
he was laid aside with loss of voice. 

There was one quarter of the political horizon, how- 
ever, to which the son of Napoleon would often wist- 
fully look — that France to which he belonged; to 
which his dying father had bequeathed him with such 
solemn injunctions that they should be true the one to 



312 THE BONAPAETE FAMILY. 

the other ; and where, even yet, there were myriads of 
veteran hearts that beat high at the name of Bonaparte. 
His Austrian education had indeed isolated him from 
all means of direct communication with his native 
country, and had made him, in many respects, an alien 
from it; but certain chords there were that no force 
could snap, which still secretly bound him to France. 
On the other hand, if he was personally forgotten or 
unknown, in the city that he thus knew only from the 
map, there were at least principles and men there that 
were ready to burst out in his behalf So, at all events, 
it appeared when the Revolution of July, 1830, came 
to be transacted. Had the young ISTapoleon been in 
Paris, or near it, when that Eevolution occurred, how 
different might have been the issue ! " Absent as he 
was, (says a French writer,) if an old general of the 
Emperor had but pronounced his name to the people, 
France might have had a JNTapoleon II. instead of a 
Louis Philippe." Some timid Bonapartist attempts, it 
appears, werf. iictually made. In Paris one Bona- 
partist, who came to a meeting of the leading politi- 
cians with the name of the Duke of Reichstadt on his 
lips, was dexterously locked up in a room till the 
business was over. Communications were even con- 
veyed to the duke himself When the news of the 
Bevolution reached Vienna, the young man could not 
conceal his agitation ; he even requested, it is said, in 
the flutter of the moment, to be allowed to go to the 
assistance of Charles X. But with the news of the 
accession of Louis Philippe, other thoughts succeeded. 
One evening, as he was ascending a staircase in the 
imperial palace, a young woman, enveloped ia a 



TittE) &01s Oi' S0NA1»AE11E. S13 

Scotch plaid, rushed forward from a landing-placo 
where she seemed to have been waiting, and taking 
his hand, pressed it eagerly to her lips. His tutor, 
who was with him, asked her business. " May I not 
kiss, (she said,) the hand of my sovereign's son?" and 
immediately disappeared. For some time, the inci- 
dent could not be explained, but at length no doubt 
remained that the fair stranger was his cousin, the 
Countess Camerat^, a married daughter of his de- 
ceased aunt Bacchiochi. On a visit to Yienna, the 
countess had constituted herself the medium of com- 
munication between the Bonapartists and her young 
cousin, to whom she even ventured, some months after 
the Revolution of July, to address a letter, encourag- 
ing him, even then, to assume a decided part. From 
these, and all overtures of the same kind, the poor 
youth seems to have shrunk with a kind of dutiful 
horror ; and his excitement regarding the Revolution 
of 1830 soon subsiding into a calmer mood, he began, 
we are told, to write down, in the form of an essay, a 
series of very Austrian reflections on hrs own life, and 
the relations which he bore to France. 

From the very first, indeed, it had been seen that 
the young ISTapoleon could not live long. Undoubted 
symptoms of the presence in his constitution of the 
seeds of that malady that had carried off his father, 
early presented themselves ; and to these were added 
other symptoms, too clearly marking him out as the 
prey of consumption. From being a handsome, deli- 
cate boy, he had suddenly shot up, before his eight- 
eenth year, into a tall, feeble, and sickly, though still 
handsome young man, the constant care of the imperial 



Stl4 tHE BOKAPAJi'TE tAMttt, 

physicians. Toward the end of ihe year 1881, he 
became rapidly worse, and was obliged to abstain from 
his military exercises, and from all active exertion 
whatever. During the winter of that year, and the 
spring of 1832, he lived at Schonbrunn, almost wholly 
confined to his chamber. It had been resolved to 
remove him to ISTaples, should it be possible to do so, 
in the autumn of 1832 ; but the disease made such 
progress, that before that time the fatal result had 
taken place. For many weeks he had been in great 
pain, and incapable of any change of position, save 
that of being wheeled to a window-balcony overlook- 
ing the gardens of Schonbrunn, Even this was at last 
beyond his strength; and, stretched on his bed in 
great suffering, he waited anxiously for his release. 
Maria Louisa arrived from Italy only in time to see 
him die. It was on the 22d of July, 1832, that he 
breathed his last. Some days after, there was a funeral 
procession through the streets of Vienna, and the body 
of I^apoleon's son was committed to the imperial vaults. 

While the heir of I^apoleon was thus living and 
dying at Yienna, the other members of the Bonaparte 
family were dispersed over the world, gazed at every 
where as the relics of a grandeur that had passed 
away. 

Joseph, the elder brother of l!Tapoleon, and through 
life his most intimate friend, was born in Corsica, 
January T, 1768. He was, together with iJ^Tapoleon, 
educated at Autun, where the tendency of their res- 
pective tastes and character developed itself by theii 
preference of, or excellence in, particular studies — 
Joseph, the man of letters and of peace, doing for his 



JOSEPH SONAPAETUJi 315 

soldier-brother his Latin and Greek verses ; while the 
future conqueror studied Caesar and Alexander, and 
helped his brother in the mathematics. Elected a 
deputy from Ajaccio to the Corsican Assembly, in 
1790, Joseph ardently embraced the principles of the 
French Revolution, v^hich he cherished to his death. 
He was, speculatively, always a friend of freedom, and 
though the crown of two nations had graced his brow, 
and two others tendered to him — one in this our new 
world — were set aside by him, he did not, in power 
forget, so far as he was free to act, his early pledges. 
His career in France was rapid and brilliant. In 
1796, he was the French embassador at Rome — sub- 
sequently a member of the Council of Five Hundred, 
and in 1800, a counselor of state, in which capacity 
he concluded a commercial treaty between France and 
the United States. He was the plenipotentiary who 
signed the treaty of Luneville, which gave peace to 
the continent of Europe in 1801 — and the treaty of 
peace with England at Amiens in 1802. 

"When the empire arose, IN'apoleon being without 
male issue, Joseph and his brother Louis, and their 
descendants, were looked to as the successors of the 
Emperor ; and then it was that ITapoleon first required 
that Jose]3h, so distinguished in civil and diplomatic 
life, should put on the harness of the soldier. He 
insisted that one to whom the succession might fall, 
should be versed in military, as well as in civil conduct, 
and accordingly, Joseph became colonel of a regiment 
in the famous camp of Boulogne.. 

While there, the crown of Lombardy was offered to 
him, but he refused it because the Emperor made it a 



♦^1^ TfiE SOi^APARTE.FAMlLlf. 

condition of acceptance, that he should renounce lii3 
claim to the succession of the empire, and moreover 
that he should pay an annual tribute to France. 

In 1806, at the head of an army of 40,000 men, he 
was commissioned to overthrow the English and Rus- 
sian domination in l^aples, and the throne of Queen 
Caroline. He easily and rapidly effected the conquest, 
and his own brow bore the crown which he had con- 
quered. His brief reign of two years was a succession 
of benefits to a people who had been long degraded 
by a most oppressive despotism. He founded civil 
and military schools, some of which yet exist — over- 
threw feudal privileges — suppressed the convents — 
opened new roads — caused the paupers of [N'aples to 
work and be paid — drained marshes — and every- 
where animated with new life and hope a people long 
sunk in abject servitude. Joseph was here in his ele- 
ment, for he loved to do good. 

From these scenes, so congenial to him, he was 
called by the Emperor in 1808, to Bayonne, and there 
the crown of Spain was forced upon him. In this new 
sphere he strove to adhere to his previous course, and 
by mildness and persuasion and benefits conferred, to 
conciliate the affection of Spain. He even besought 
the Emperor to withdraw all the French troops, trust- 
ing by frank and loyal conduct toward the Spaniards, 
to obtain their confidence and support. His request 
was not acceded to, and the hatred and jealousy of 
foreigners, which mark the Spanish character, exasper- 
ated by the clergy and encouraged by the presence of 
a large English army, rendered all Joseph's efforts for 
a peaceful success, such as he had accomplished in 



JOSEPH BONAPABTE. 317 

Kaples, impossible. He was obliged to be the soldier 
and although worsted in the event, he gave in the vari- 
ous battle-fields where he was present, decisive indica- 
tions of courage and conduct. Wearied with a fruitless 
struggle which promised no opportunity for the exer- 
cise of the kindly plans he alone desired to carry out 
in his new kingdom, he wrote to the Emperor on the 
23d of March, 1812, from Madrid, earnestly asking 
permission to resign the crown that four years before 
had been imposed upon him. In that letter he says : 
"I have done no good and have no hope of doing any. 
In accepting the crown I had no other object in view 
than the promotion of the happiness of this great mon- 
archy. It has not been in my power to accomplish it. 
I therefore ask to be received by your majesty as a 
simple subject." Permission was refused, but the for- 
tune of war drove Joseph from his crown and king- 
dom, and he was once more in France. The reverses 
of 1813-14, had overtaken French triumphs ; the 
capital was menaced ; l^apoleon, with the fragment of 
his victorious armies, was maneuvering between the 
Marne and the Seine, with the hope of covering Paris — 
but the overwhelming number of the adversary ren- 
dered success hopeless. From Kheims, on the 16th of 
March, 1814, he wrote to Joseph, to whom, on leaving 
Paris, he confided the defense of the capital, and the 
care of the Empress and her son — recalling to him 
and renewing his verbal instruction not to permit 
either Maria Lonisa or the Kiilg of Kome to fall into 
the hands of the enemy. In this letter he says em- 
phatically, " Quit not my son, and remember, I would 
father know him to be in the Seine, than in the hands 



818 



THE BONAPARTE FAMILY. 



of the enemies of France. The fortune of Astjanax, 
prisoner of the Greeks, has always appeared to me the 
most melancholy fortune recorded in history." 

After the abdication of jSTapoleon, Joseph retired to 
Lausanne. Soon the events of the hundred days found 
him again in Paris, and again deeply trusted by his 
brother. "With the final downfall of Napoleon, Joseph's 
public career terminated. He came to the United 
States and established himself at Bordentown, on the 
Delaware, living the life of a gentleman of accom- 
plished education, refined taste, and liberal hospitality. 
Here, under the title of Count of Survilliers, he con- 
tinued to reside for many years. While Napoleon 
lived, he still hoped — after he died, and while his son 
still lived, yet did he continue to hoj^e — and when the 
Ee volution of 1830 burst forth in Paris, he addressed 
from New York an eloquent protest to the Chamber of 
Deputies, against their assuming to place on the throne, 
without consulting the nation, any other family than 
that of Bonaparte. "Napoleon, (said he,) was called 
to the throne by three millions five hundred thousand 
votes ; if the nation thinks right to make another 
choice, it has the right, but it alone. Napoleon H. 
was proclaimed by the Chambers in 1815, which re- 
cognized in him a right conferred by the nation. I 
accept for him all the modifications discussed by that 
Chamber, which was rudely dissolved by foreign bay- 
onets." The protest was unheeded. The younger 
branch of the Bourbons was placed on the throne; and 
still, as under the older branch, the name and family 
of Bonaparte were proscribed from the soil of France. 

Abandoning, thenceforth, not his interest for the 



JOSEPH BONAPARTE. 319 

honor and welfare of France, but all expectation of 
being permitted to contribute thereto himself, he passed 
his days in tranquillity on the banks of the Delaware. 
It was in this retirement that a deputation of leading 
men from Mexico sought him out, and tendered to 
him a crown in the new world, which, without hesita- 
tion, he put aside. The former King of Naples and 
of Spain, replied as follows to the deputation which 
ofiered him the crown of Mexico : "I have worn two 
crowns ; I would not take a step to wear a third. 
Nothing can gratify me more than to see men who 
would not recognize my authority when I was at 
Madrid, now come to seek me in exile, that I may be 
at their head ; but I do not think that the throne you 
wish to raise again can make your happiness ; every 
day that I pass in the hospitable land of the United 
States, proves more clearl}^ to me the excellence of 
republican institutions for America. Keep them, then, 
as a precious gift from heaven ; settle your internal 
commotions ; follow the example of the United States; 
and seek among your fellow-citizens for a man more 
capable than I am of acting the great part of Wash- 
ington." In 1839, family affairs required his presence 
in Europe. In 1840, an attack of apoplexy smote his 
previously vigorous health and fine faculties ; and lan- 
guishing from the effects of that, and finally permitted, 

"An old man, broken by the storms of state," 

to visit Florence, in the hope of benefit from its genial 
climate, he there breathed his last — with his latest 
breath invoking blessings on that country which had 
rewarded his services with twenty -nine years of exile. 
In the United States, Joseph was known only by his 



S20 -THE JBOifAPASTE FAMlLt". 

benefactions. Of most amiable and courteous man- 
ners, with admirable conversational powers, wbich be 
was fond of indulging — and without any of the pre- 
tensions with which his career might have inspired a 
mind less evenly balanced, — he moved among the 
people a well-bred gentleman, a kind and generous 
neighbor, a most agreeable and instructive companion; 
a man of head and heart unspoiled by the loftiest 
honors of the world, and unsoured by its reverses. 

Joseph Bonaparte had two daughters: the elder, 
Zenaide, was married to her cousin, Charles Bona- 
parte, son of Lucien ; the younger, Charlotte, was 
married to her cousin, JSTapoleon Louis, son of Louis 
Bonaparte and Hortense. Her husband died March 
ir, 1831. 

Lucien, JSTapoleon's second brother, was born in 
1775. The effective assistance which he rendered to 
iNapoleon on some of the most important occasions in 
the earlier period of his career, and the misunder- 
standing which, at a later period, took place between 
these two brothers, render Lucien an object of much 
interest. The political career of Lucien may be said 
to have commenced in 1797, although he had previ- 
ously held several important civil and military ap- 
pointments. Although he had not completed his 
twenty-third year, he had so distinguished himself as 
to be nominated a member of the Council of Five Hun- 
dred by the electors of the Liamone, his native depart- 
ment. His first appearance in the tribune was in July, 
1798. At that time the revolutionary party, in its war- 
fare upon Christianity, was endeavoring to abolish the 
Sabbath, and a law was proposed to compel tradesmen 



LUCIEN BONAPAKTE. 321 

to keep open their shops except on every tenth day. 
Upon this occasion Lucien advocated the cause of 
Christianity. "Tolerance, (said he,) is the sister of 
liberty ; persecution the daughter of tyranny. What 
right have we to prevent a citizen from celebrating 
any day which may be indicated by his ]3rofession of 
faith? At Rome, an Israelite is not forced to work on 
a Saturday ; and shall we, the representatives of a free 
people, afford less scope for the unshackled exercise of 
religion than the sovereign pontiff?" 

When, in September, 1790, the debates took place 
on the motion of General Jourdan, for declaring the 
country in danger, Lucien opposed it with much talent 
and ingenuity. He declared, that the only mode of 
surmounting the crisis was, by intrusting a great ex- 
tent of power to the executive authority. He, how- 
ever, thought it his duty to combat the idea of a 
dictatorship. '' Is there one among us, (he cried,) who 
would not a: m himself with the poniard of Brutus, and 
chastise the base and ambitious enemy of his coun- 
try?" After this, Lucien, on several occasions, distin- 
guished himself in the Council of Five Hundred ; and 
although he had hitherto affected much republican 
zeal, he opposed the reviving influence of the demo- 
crats. ^Notwithstanding the interruption of the com- 
munication between Toulon and Alexandria, there is 
little doubt that he found means of announcing to his 
brother in Egypt the unsatisfactory state of parties in 
Paris, and the dreadful disasters which had taken 
place on the frontiers. In the mean time, the eight- 
eenth of '-'- Brumaire'^'' was drawing on, and Lucien 

succeeded in being elected to the presidency of 
21 



322 THE BONAPAKTE FAMILY. 

the Council of Five Hundred — a circumstance highly 
favorable to his views. 

On ISTapoleon's return to France, Lucien presided at 
all the private meetings preparatory to the Revolution 
of Brumaire, (9th ]^ovember, 1799.) On that memora- 
ble day, when the legislative body held the extraordi- 
nary sitting at St. Cloud, he exerted every effort to 
stay the opposition which manifested itself against his 
brother; and when Napoleon entered unarmed into 
the council, he firmly opposed the sentence of outlawry 
called for against him. " Can you ask me, (he cried,) 
to put the outlawry of my own brother to the vote?" 
Finding this appeal to his personal situation and feel- 
ings to make no impression upon the Assembly, he 
flung on the desk his hat, scarf, and other insignia of 
his ofiice. "Let me be rather heard, (he said,) as the 
advocate of him whom you falsely and rashly accuse." 
At this moment, a small party of guards, sent by ]N"a- 
poleon to his assistance, marched into the hall and 
carried him out. Lucien mounted on horseback, and 
called out, in a voice naturally deep and sonoi'ous, 
"General Bonaparte, and you, soldiers! the president 
of the Council of Five Hundred announces to you, 
that factious men, with daggers, have interrupted the 
deliberations of the Assembly. He authorizes you to 
employ force against these disturbers. The Assembly 
of Five Hundred is dissolved." De Bourrienne, who 
was present, tells us, that perceiving a slight hesitation 
on the part of the troops, Lucien, drawing his sword, 
added, "I swear that I will plunge this into the bosom 

of my own brother, if he should ever aim a bloT7 ^t tlie 

ibei^ties of France." 



LUCIEN BONAPAETE. 323 

To Lucien the success of this memorable day may, 
in no inconsiderable degree, be attributed. The port- 
folio of the minister of the interior was the reward of 
his services ; and though he had scarcely attained his 
twenty-fifth year, his administration acquired a charac- 
ter of energy and elevation which commanded respect. 
By great vigilance and close attention to certain mys- 
teries of office, he contrived to make up for that pro- 
found knowledge which he had not had time to acquire. 
His official duties were discharged with firmness and 
activity ; and without any sacrifice of personal conse- 
quence, he knew how to assume the most amiable 
suavity of manners toward individuals of all classes. 
He was the friend of public instruction, and the patron 
of science and the arts. While he was minister of tho 
interior, Lucien lost his wife, Christine Boyer. She is 
said to have been a woman of a mild disposition, 
amiable manners, and great goodness of heart. H'e 
caused a handsome monument to be erected to her 
memory, on which is the following simple inscrip- 
tion ; — "A daughter — wife — and mother — without 
reproach ! " 

Distinguished as were the services which Lucien had 
performed for the First Consul, the two brothers did 
not long continue on brotherly terms. Lucien soon 
found it necessary to resign his position at the capital 
and accept the appointment of envoy to Spain, where 
he was extremely successful in promoting the ambi- 
tious views of Napoleon. Upon his return from this 
mission, Lucien took a step which was highly offen 
sive to Napoleon, by marrying the widow of an ex- 
change-brokerj named Juberthou, who "for greateT 



324: THE BONAPARTE FAMILY. 

convenience, (observes Be Bourrienne, significantly,) 
had been dispatched to the West Indies, where, in the 
course of a couple of months, the yellow fever snatched 
him from the cares of this transitory life." This mar- 
riage was a severe blow to the system of Kapoleon, 
who contemplated nothing less than royal alliances for 
all the branches of his family. "When assured of the 
fact by the curate who had performed the ceremony at 
the Hotel de Brienne, he fell into a violent rage, and 
from that moment determined never to make Lucien a 
prince of France, on account of what he termed his 
unequal match. 

The old misunderstanding was now revived with 
increased bitterness ; and to such lengths were matters 
carried, that Lucien formed a sort of league against 
his brother in his own family. Directions were given, 
that Napoleon's name should never be mentioned by 
his household, and the family portraits were taken 
down and consigned to the lumber-room. The only 
one that escaped the proscription, was that of his 
mother. He was shortly after commanded to leave 
the French territory. 

In April, 1804, only a few weeks previous to the 
change of the government from consular to imperial, 
Lucien quitted Paris. The conjuncture was, in one 
respect, favorable to his reputation ; since it created a 
general impression, that the cause of his disgrace was 
his opposition to his brother's ambitious policy — an 
impression which Lucien, of course, was not very 
jinxious to weaken. He proceeded to Milan ; but, on 
Xapoleon's arriving there, to place on his brow the 
iroja crown of Lombardy, he removed to P^saro ; and. 



LUCIEN BONAPARTE. 325 

in 1805, to Rome, where the pope treated him with 
marked attention and kindness. 

After the treaty of Tilsit, in June, 1807, an attempt 
was made by Joseph to reconcile the brothers. An 
interview was arranged at Mantua, but no accommo- 
dation resulted therefrom. Lucien was willing to com- 
ply with certain conditions proposed by the Emperor, 
among which was the marriage of his daughter to the 
prince of the Asturias ; but, to his great honor, he re- 
fused to repudiate his wife. " Separate from her, (said 
Napoleon,) for a time, and we shall see what can be 
done." " I^ot for an hour ! " rejoined Lucien. 

When, in the early part of 1808, E'apoleon resolved 
upon dethroning the Spanish Bourbons, it was his wish 
to have made Lucien king of Spain ; but Lucien, who 
had so recently resided in Sj^ain, and knew the Spanish 
character, and who was at this time living at Eome, 
happy in his family and in his pursuits, declined, with- 
out hesitation, the proffered elevation. In the follow- 
ing April, while at his country-seat, near Frascati, (the 
same that belonged to Cicero,) and to which Lucien had 
restored its original name of Tusculum, he received a 
letter from his brother Joseph, then king of J^aples, 
recommending him to leave the papal territories with- 
out delay, as they no longer afforded him an asylum. 
He retired to an estate which he had recently pur- 
chased at Canino twenty-five leagues from the capital. 
Here all his attention seemed directed to agricultural 
and rural pursuits, for which he had always manifested 
much fondness. Dressed in a coarse woollen coat and 
thick shoes, he would pass whole days in superintend- 
ing the laborers. He established foundries and iron 



826 THE BONAPAETB FAMILY. 

works, and the whole country assumed new life and 
vigor. While Lucien was thus laudably occupied, far 
other cbjects engrossed the attention of his imperial 
brother. In May, 1809, he issued his first decree, de- 
claring the temporal sovereignty of the pope to be at 
an end, and incorporating Rome with the French em- 
pire. Lucien, now considering himself no longer safe 
in the papal dominions, left Canino, on the 1st of 
August, 1810, intending to proceed to the United 
States. But the vessel in which he embarked was cap- 
tured by the British cruisers, and he was sent to Eng- 
land. There he occupied his time in writing an epio 
poem on the subject of Charlemagne. His ambition 
seemed now to be confined to the attainment of a dis' 
tinguished rank in literature, and to be numbered 
among the eminent poets of France. 

Restored to personal liberty by the peace of Paris, 
in 1814, Lucien returned to Italj^, where the pope con- 
ferred on him the dignity of a Roman prince, with the 
title of Prince of Canino. Thus it would appear that 
Lucien-s fortune had acquired fresh strength by the 
recent events, gaining in stability what it might have 
lost in grandeur ; while that of Napoleon, lately so 
gigantic, was now limited to the possession of a little 
island, scarcely acknowledged as a part of that empire 
which he had shaken to its foundation. This astound- 
ing reverse sensibly afifected Lucien. He tendered his 
brother his fortune and his services ; and while the 
latter was at Elba, a full reconciliation was effected, 
through the mediation of their mother and their sister 
Pauline. 

In 1815, as soon as Lucien had heard of Kapoleon's 



LUCIEN BONAPARTE. 327 

escape from Elba, he wrote him a letter of congratula- 
tion. "Your return, (he said,) fills up the measure of 
your military glory : but there is another glory still 
greater — civil glory. The sentiments and intentions 
which you have solemnly promulgated promise France 
that you know how to acquire it." When JSTapoleon, 
apparently paralyzed by the unexpected reverses at 
"Waterloo, betrayed symptoms of irresolution, Lucien 
did all he could to reanimate his drooping spirits. 
" You give up the game, (he said,) without having lost 
it. The death of thirty thousand men cannot decide 
the fate of France." Finding his brother still unde- 
termined, he remarked to his secretary, that "The 
smoke of Waterloo had turned his brain." 

The second abdication obliged Lucien to retire to 
his sister Pauline's chateau at JS'euilly, where he pre- 
pared to leave France. While Napoleon was at St. 
Helena, Lucien's mind and heart were incessantly di- 
rected to that spot. He applied to the British govern- 
ment to be allowed to proceed thither, and to reside 
there two years, with or without his wife and children; 
engaging not to occasion any augmentation of expense, 
and promising to submit to every restriction imposed 
on his brother, or that might be imposed upon himself, 
but his application was peremptorily denied. During 
the remainder of his life, Lucien Bonaparte was heard 
of merely as a Eoman nobleman of taste ; at once a 
patron of literature and an aspirant for literary honors. 
His great epic of " Charlemagne," on which he spent 
many years, was published in two ponderous quartos, 
but failed to procure him the laurels he coveted. 
His principal literary attempts, in addition to the 



828 THE BONAPAETE FAMILY. 

"Charlemagne," were a poem on Corsican history, 
called " Cjrneide ; " a defense of i^apoleon ; and a 
volume of his own memoirs. 

During the last ten or twelve years of his life, he 
found a new and congenial occupation in the collection 
of Etruscan remains. The estate of Canino befng a 
portion of the extensive tract of country that the Etrus- 
cans had once occupied in Italy, it might have been 
anticipated that it would be found to contain ancient 
tombs, such as had been already discovered in other 
parts of the Roman States, near the known sites of 
pristine Etruscan cities. It was not, however, till the 
year 1828, that, in consequence of the accidental ex- 
posure of one such tomb in a field, systematic excava- 
tions were commenced on the estate, with a view to 
exhaust it of its Etruscan antiquities. From that time 
forward the prince, and in his absence, the princess, 
zealously prosecuted the work, employing workmen 
to dig continually in various parts of the estate ; and 
the result was the accumulation at Canino of a vast 
number of vases, bronzes, and other relics, forming a 
museum of Etruscan antiquities, superior, in some 
respects, to any that existed in Italy. The name of 
the Prince of Canino became known in all the anti- 
quarian circles of Europe ; travelers in Italy used to 
visit his museum ; and at one or two balls in Eome, 
the princess created quite a sensation by appearing in 
a magnificent set of ornaments that had been taken 
from the ancient tombs on her husband's estate. 

Dying at Yiterbo, in June, 1810, at the age of sixty- 
five, the Prince of Canino left a numerous family of 
children, of various ages. Two daughters, the issue 



LOUIS EONAPAKTE. 329 

of his first marriage, had been married, the one to an 
Italian, the prince Gabrielli ; the other, first to a Swed- 
ish count, and afterward, in 1824, to an Englishman, 
Lord Dudley Stuart. Of his children by the second 
marriage, there survived four sons and four daughters. 
One of the daughters, Lsetitia, born in 1804, became 
the wife of an Irish gentleman, and member of Parlia- 
ment, Mr. Thomas Wyse. The sons, all of whom are 
still alive, have distinguished themselves in various 
ways. The eldest, Charles Lucien, styled until his 
father's death, Prince de Musignano, and afterward 
Prince of Canino and Musignano, was born in 1803, 
and married, in 1822, his cousin Charlotte, one of the 
daughters whom Joseph Bonaparte had left in Eu- 
rope. Selecting a path that had not yet been trodden 
by any member of his versatile family, he devoted 
himself from the first to natural history, in which 
science he soon attained eminence. Crossing the 
Atlantic after his marriage, on a visit to his father-in- 
law, he took the opportunity of making himself ac- 
quainted with the ornithology of America ; and was 
able, after a year or two, to produce as the result of 
his rifle-practice, many new birds not figured by his 
predecessor, Wilson. Devoting himself with similar 
assiduity, after his return, to the zoological illustration 
of Italy, he gave to the world in 1841, a magnifi- 
cent work in three folio volumes, containing, under 
the name of ''Iconografia della Fauna Italica," pei- 
haps the most detailed and elaborate account of the 
animals of the Peninsula, that has yet been attempted. 
Louis, the third brother of Napoleon, was born 
September 2, 1778. When, in 1794, l^apoleon joined 



330 THE BONAPAETE FAMILT. 

the army of Italy, Louis accompanied him, and, al- 
though but little more than fifteen years of age, evinced 
the coolness and courage of a veteran. The first time 
he was led into an engagement, Louis, far from be- 
traying any astonishment, was anxious to serve as a 
rampart to his brother. 

"While the enemy were keeping up a brisk fire of 
artillery, Louis placed himself before Napoleon, as he 
proceeded along the outside of the intrenchments, for 
the purpose of examining them ; and in this position 
he continued during the whole of the inspection. On 
another occasion, being in a battery, against which 
the enemy kept up a well-directed fire, he remained 
always standing with his head erect, although the 
gunners were taking all possible pains to shelter 
themselves from the enemy. Napoleon asked him the 
reason ; he answered : " You have told me, that an 
artillery ofiicer should never be afraid of cannon. 
They are our arms — I follow your example." Louis 
was little more than seventeen when he a second time 
joined the army of Italy, then commanded by his 
brother; to whom, though he had only the rank of 
lieutenant, he was appointed aid-de-camp. At this 
early stage of his career, he was an observant and 
silent character. He felt, he remarks, a vacuity of 
heart and a sentiment of deep regret, at seeing himself 
impelled into a career of troublesome ambition. He 
already sighed for retirement and a peaceful occupa- 
tion. He was in nearly all the battles in Italy, dis- 
charging all the duties of his station with scrupulous 
exactitude ; but he had no ambition for military dis- 
tinction, At the memorable battle of Areola, which 



LOUIS BONAPARTE. 831 

lasted three days, he was frequently exposed, during 
the hottest period of the attack, to imminent peril. The 
brave Lannes fell wounded by his side ; and JSTa- 
poleon's horse having sunk with him in a morass, 
Louis succeeded in getting hold of one of his brother's 
hands ; but not being sufficiently strong, he was drawn 
along with him, and both must have perished, had not 
Marmont, with two subalterns, extricated them from 
their perilous situation. This took place on the first 
day. On the second, Louis was charged with impor- 
tant orders from the general-in-chief to General Rob- 
ert, and being the only person on horseback, he was 
marked out by the enemy, and exposed for a long 
time to their fire. On regaining his brother, Napoleon 
expressed a feeling of surprise and joy at seeing 
him: "I believed you dead," said he; and his death 
had been actually announced to him by some of the 
grenadiers. 

Louis accompanied his brother to Egypt, in 1778, 
and was from that time usually with the army until 
the year 1806 — his unhappy marriage with Hortense, 
in 1802, causing him to remain more constantly with 
his regiment than was otherwise necessary. In 1806, 
Holland, exhausted by dissensions and internal strug- 
gles, threw itself into the arms of France, and asked 
for a prince from the family of Napoleon, who might 
preside over its destinies. Embassadors from the 
Dutch people came to offer the throne of Holland to 
Louis ; " We come," said they, " of our own free ac- 
cord, supported by the suffrages of nine-tenths of our 
fellow-citizens, to entreat you to join your fate with 
oursj and save a whole people from the darters which 



332 THE BONAPAETE FAMILY. 

threaten them." Louis was really unwilling to accept 
the proifered honor, but founded his objection on the 
ground that the climate was unfavorable to his health. 
"Better to die as a king than live as a prince," was 
the characteristic reply of ]^apoleon. On the 5th of 
June, 1806, Louis was proclaimed king of Holland, 
and set out in hopes of hnding, in his solicitude for the 
public interests and in the labors of administration, 
exemption from the melancholy, which slowly under- 
mined his constitution. Faithful, above all, in his 
immovable attachment to duty, he devoted himself 
entirely to the well-being of the country, which Provi- 
dence had committed to his charge ; and when cir- 
cumstances placed him in a situation in which he was 
obliged to choose between his duties as a king and his 
affection to his family, he never hesitated to range 
himself on the side of duty. He gave himself up with 
enthusiasm to the hope of being useful to two millions 
of men, and resolved to devote himself to their happi- 
ness. He remained a week in St. Leu, and during 
that time endeavored to gain from the deputation a 
general notion of the state of the countr^^ over which 
he was about to rule. Finding its treasury empty, 
and that France owed it |1,000,000, lent to the French 
governors of the colonies in the East Indies, he de- 
manded of the Emperor the repayment of it, but 
without success. On reaching his capital his first care 
was to form a ministry. He inquired into the integ- 
rity and merit of individuals, and on these he founded 
his confidence. To the several addresses presented to 
him, he replied, " that from the moment he set foot on 
the soil, he had become a Dutchman." He promised 



LOUIS BONAPARTE. 333 

to protect justice, as he would protect commerce, by 
throwiug the access to it open, and removing every 
thing that might impede it, "With me, (he said,) 
there shall be no different religions — no different par- 
ties ; merit and service shall form the sole ground of 
distinction." 

The necessities of his treasury demanding immediate 
attention, he dispatched an individual to Paris, to in- 
form his brother that unless he liquidated the debt due 
to Holland, took the French troops into his own pay, 
and lessened the naval force, he would instantly abdi- 
cate; meantime, without waiting for an answer, he 
gave directions for such reductions of expenditure as 
it was in his power to make. 

He soon perceived that the government of Holland 
must found its chief support on public opinion. He 
set about drawing up in silence, the plan of a constitu- 
tion, of the most simple description, alike suited to the 
tastes and habits of his subjects ; and he took steps 
for obtaining a uniform civil and criminal code, which 
should unite the principles of justice with those of 
humanity. He also appointed two committees, com- 
posed of the ablest professors and men of letters, to 
draw up a uniform system of weights and measures ; 
and though the good he thus intended was not at- 
tained during his reign, it has since been carried into 
complete effect. Besides these, Louis projected sundry 
ameliorations connected with the health of his subjects 
and the salubrity of the country. He enlarged the 
public libraries, encouraged the fine arts, founded a 
General Institution of Arts and Sciences, and created 
j:h§ order of Unioji and ]\Ierit} selecting for its deyice 



334 THE BONAPARTE FAMILY. 

the Dutch maxim, "Doe wel en zie niet om" — "Do 
what you ought, happen what may." 

In January, 1807, a shock like that of an earthquake 
was felt at the Hague, and a light in the horizon an- 
nounced a terrible fire in the direction of Leyden. 
Louis happened to be on his way thither, when he was 
informed that a vessel laden with gunpowder had 
blown up in the center of the city. On his arrival, he 
was horror-struck at the spectacle that presented itself. 
Eight hundred houses had been leveled with the 
ground ; and with their fall, numerous families, while 
enjoying the repast of dinner, were precipitated into 
eternity — fathers, mothers, children, and domestics, 
all were hurried to a promiscuous grave. Every win- 
dow in the place was dashed to atoms, and thiis the 
bread, flour, and other necessaries of life were rendered 
dangerous and useless, by the showers of powdered 
glass that fell in all directions. 

Attended by the magistrates, Louis traversed the 
scene of desolation. He ascended the ruins, mixed 
with the laborers, visited the wounded, promised a 
reward to every one who succeeded in rescuing a 
fellow-creature from beneath the rubbish, and did not 
quit the spot till daybreak of the following morning. 
He sent off to the principal towns for succors of all 
kinds, and ordered his palace in the wood, between 
Leyden and the Hague, to be thrown open to those 
respectable families whom the^ accident had left house- 
less. On afterward receiving the thanks of the magis- 
trates, he returned a most benignant answer. "The 
dead," said he, "I cannot restore to you ; that is above 
jitiman power j but all tliat; J cp-n I will (Jo for jOMf 



LOUIS BONAPARTE. 335 

citj." Louis kept his word. He proposed to the 
legislative body the measures necessary for its restora- 
tion ; directed a general subscription to be set on foot, 
which was so productive, that the inhabitants were 
indemnified for their pecuniary losses ; and decreed 
that Leyden should become the seat of the Koyal 
University. 

Again, 1809, when a sudden inundation spread 
desolation over several districts, Louis was on the spot, 
performing the same beneficent ofiices. He traversed 
the whole of it during two days and a night, visited 
every village, consoled and encouraged the inhabit- 
ants, and promptly rewarded those who most exposed 
themselves to danger. 

At the close of 1806, the famous Berlin decree was 
enacted, prohibiting all intercourse with England, and 
Louis was required to enforce it in Holland. He 
could not avoid taking some analogous steps, but 
he would not re-enact the decree. On complaints 
being made, that a contraband trafiic was carrying 
on, Louis coolly replied, "Empechez done la peau de 
transpirer!" — "You might as well forbid the skin to 
perspire ! " 

When IN'apoleon was making arrangements to take 
possession of Spain, he conceived the design of trans- 
ferring Louis to the throne of that country. He ac- 
cordingly addressed a letter to him, in March, 1808, 
in which he opened his plan, intimating, among other 
things, that the climate of Holland was unfavorable 
to his health. "Tell me categorically," he said, "if 
I make you king of Spain, will you agree to it? 
^iiswer me — yes or r^^" The surprise of Louis, oi^ 



336 THE BONAPARTE FAMILY. 

receiving so impolitic, unjust, and shameful a proposi- 
tion, was only equaled by his indignation: — '^I am 
not the governor of a province," he said : ''for a king 
there is no promotion but to heaven ; they are all 
equal ; with what face can I demand an oath of 
fidelity from another people, if I am unfaithful to that 
which I have taken to the Dutch?" His answer was 
a direct refusal ; and the throne of Spain was given to 
Joseph. 

As Louis defended Holland against the ever-increas- 
ing encroachments of his brother, a dispute ensued 
between them. Louis was ordered to Paris, where it 
was with the greatest difficulty that he effected a pro- 
longation of the existence of the Dutch state. July 1, 
1810, he abdicated in favor of his eldest son, and left 
Holland, accompanied by two friends, and, under the 
title of Count of St. Leu, repaired to the baths of 
Teplitz, where he devoted himself to literature, and 
wrote several works. He lived a retired life, endeav- 
oring to re-establish his health. Immediately after 
his abdication, he separated from Queen Hortense, and 
they never afterward lived together, though no formal 
divorce had been sought by either party. The educa- 
tion of the children was yielded to Hortense. Louis 
finally settled in Italy, where he engaged in literary 
pursuits. Among the works he gave to the world was 
a novel entitled "Marie," in the style and story of 
which may be discerned the expression of the author's 
own griefs, and still abiding melancholy ; a collection 
of poetical and historical documents relating to Hol- 
land ; an essay on versification ; a number of poems ; 
^jid finally, in 18^9, a critique on Sir Walter Scott'g 



Jerome bonapaete. 337 

Life of E'apoleon. Until his death, which occurred 
in 1846, at the age of sixty-six, he lived in extreme 
seclusion. 

Jerome, the youngest of I^apoleon's brothers, was 
born December 15, 1784. At the age of fifteen, he 
entered the navy. In 1801 he was appointed to the 
command of a small sloop of war, and employed in 
the expedition to St. Domingo, commanded by his 
brother-in-law, General Le Clerc. In 1802 he re- 
turned to Paris. In the same year he visited Brest, 
launching into extravagances, contracting debts which 
he had not the means to pay, and drawing on his 
brother's secretary, for sums which the First Consul 
discharged with much reluctance. One of his letters, 
in particular, excited l^apoleon's anger : it was filled 
with accounts of the entertainments he was giving 
and receiving, and concluded that he had drawn for 
several thousand dollars. To this, Eonaparte wrote 
the following reply:' — *'I have seen your letter^ and 
am impatient to hear that you are on board your 
frigate, studying a profession intended to be the means 
of your glory. Die young, and I shall have some 
consolation ; but if you live to sixty, without having 
served your country and leaving behind you any 
honorable recollections, you had better not have been 
born." Jerome never, realized the wishes and ex- 
pectations of his brother. On the receipt of this 
letter, he set sail for Martinique, and resided, while 
there, with Madame de la Pagerie, the mother of 
Josephine. In 1803, on the resumption of hostilities 
between England and France, he had frequent oppor- 
tunities of distinguishing himself; but, after cruising 

22 



338 THE BONAPAETia FAMILY, 

for a tew months, he thought proper to put into 
"New York, where he passed in dissipation that time 
which, it was expected he would have employed in 
facing the enemy. Toward the close of the year, he 
married Miss Elizabeth Patterson, the daughter of 
a rich merchant of Baltimore. He remained in 
America until the spring of 1805, when he embarked 
for Europe. Landing at Lisbon, he proceeded by land 
to Paris, directing the ship to proceed to Amsterdam, 
from which place he intended his wife should follow 
him, as soon as he had obtained the requisite permis- 
sion from his imperial brother. On her arrival, how- 
ever, Madame Jerome Bonaparte, not being permitted 
to go on shore, thought it advisable to trust herself to 
the English. She accordingly landed at Dover, took 
up her residence during the summer at Camberwell, 
and in the autumn returned to her native country. 

Hitherto, Jerome had displayed no want of affection 
for his American wife — a lady distinguished alike for 
her beauty and her talents. On the conclusion of the 
peace of Tilsit, jN^apoleon having represented to him 
that the branches of the imperial family were not en- 
titled to enter into alliances according to the dictates 
of their own feelings, but were bound to form such as 
were most suitable to his policy, Jerome was tempted 
to sacrifice the connection which his heart had chosen, 
and become the tool of his brother's overweening am- 
bition. The better to secure his influence in Germany, 
Napoleon demanded in marriage for him a daughter 
of the Elector of Saxony ; but as that princess would 
not listen to the proposal, another was immediately 
gought after. On the 12th of August, 1807, Jerome 



JEEOME BONAPARTE. 339 

espoused the Princess Frederica Catharina, daughter 
of the King of Wurtemberg, and, a few days after, 
was proclaimed King of Westphalia. On the Tth of 
December, a decree was issued, containing, in four 
pages, the constitution of the new kingdom ; bv an 
article of which, in default of legal descendants of 
King Jerome, the throne was to devolve on ISTapoleon 
or his heirs. It was published on the 15th, the new 
monarch's birthday, who had then completed his 
twenty-second year. 

Jerome had no lack of common sense. Where he 
was not imposed on by intriguers, but was left to pur- 
sue the dictates of his heart, he generally took the 
right course; and had his ministers united a turn 
for business with integrity and a knowledge of the 
world, he might have become popular ; but, from the 
individuals whom he had collected around him, it was 
soon very evident that his government would not be 
a wise one. Volatile as a boy just escaped from 
school, he had a passion for imitating, in public, the 
pomp and state of his imperial brother; but, shut 
up within the walls of his palace, he would give loose 
to all the idle gayeties of childhood, down to the 
taking part in a game at leapfrog with his courtiers. 

On his arrival at Cassel, he had the mortification to 
find his treasury empty. Jerome applied to one Isaac 
Jacobson, a Jew banker, who obligingly advanced him 
$400,000 at a reasonable interest. Jerome was not 
ungrateful. A few days after he had received the 
moneys, a deputation from the Jews residing at West- 
phalia, consisting partly of rabbis and partly of elders, 
were introduced to him by Jacobson, who was their 



340 THE BONAPAKTE FAMILY 

spokesman on the occasion ; and the following was tne 
royal reply : — "I am satisfied with your speech. The 
article in the constitution of my kingdom which estab- 
lishes the equality of all religions is in unison with the 
feelings of my heart. The law ought to interrupt no 
one in the exercise of his worship. Each subject is as 
much at liberty to observe the rules of his faith, as the 
king is to follow his religion. The duties of the citi- 
zen are the only objects which the laws of the govern- 
ment can regulate. I trust I shall never have reason 
to regret what I am doing in favor of your people." 
"Westphalia became, indeed, a sort of land of promise 
for the Tribes of Israel. Individuals with long beards 
were seen in all the public ofiices. The minister of 
state was a Jew ; the counselor of finances (the afore- 
mentioned Jacobson) was a Jew ; the commissary at 
war was a Jew ; the superintendent of hospitals was a 
Jew ; the barrack-master was a Jew. 

Cassel now presented a most singular S]3ectacle. 
Around the dissolute a-nd extravagant court crowded a 
host of rapacious foreigners and idle hangers-on, of 
both sexes and of every age and condition. Unlike 
his brother Louis, Jerome afiected to despise the na- 
tive manners of his subjects, and would not even give 
himself the trouble to learn their language. This lux- 
ury and dissipation of the court had only an influence 
on the habits of the people ; but the proscription of the 
national language in public acts mortified their self- 
love, and inflicted a deep wound on their feelings. 
As the French were to be imitated in every thing, 
a revolution in German manners and German morals 
was sought to be efiected by Parisian boys of twenty 



.TfeEOMJ: BONAPAEtE. 84:1 

atid courtiers grown gray in profligacy. Jerome, at 
one time, was seized with the mania for building. He 
ordered a part of the town to be pulled down ; and as 
German activity could not keep pace with his im- 
patience, he summoned an architect from Paris, who 
would soon have transformed the royal city into an- 
other Babylon, if the resources of the treasury had 
corresponded with the vast conceptions of his genius. 
The labor of the morning was frequently destroyed 
in the evening, because, when the job was completed, 
Jerome fancied it was not done in good taste. He 
would say, "I will have this done to-night ; I expect 
to find that finished by the morning ; " and four or five 
hundred workmen were often seen toiling by torch- 
light to execute the supreme command. Contractors 
and architects found their account in the frivolity 
and caprice of the royal spendthrift. 

In 1812, when his revelings were at their height, he 
received an unexpected summons from his brother, to 
attend him in the Russian expedition ; but as his mili- 
tary movements were unfortunate, he was ordered to 
return home. To conceal his mortification, he shut 
himself up with his favorites, and sought to dissipate 
his chagrin by a train of frivolous amusements. In 
the following year on the evacuation of Germany by 
the French, Jerome's own subjects rose up against 
him, and forced him to abandon his capital. Jerome 
took refuge in France, accompanied by the amiable 
princess his wife, whose attachment seemed to increase 
with her husband's reverses. On the abdication of 
"N^apoleon, in April, 1814, they were compelled to 
quit Paris. Jerome was at Trieste when his brother 



m 



THE BOKAPARTE FAMILY. 



returned from Elba. Though closely watched by tha 
Austrian government, he contrived to escape to Paris. 
He soon after set off for the army with the Emperor. 
He fought at Waterloo, where he displayed much 
ability and courage, exclaiming, "We ought to die 
here! — we can die no where better than here!" It 
was to him that E'apoleon left the task of collecting 
the wreck of the French army after the defeat. 

After the second abdication, Jerome quitted Paris, 
and, assuming a disguise, wandered about from place to 
place, until at length he obtained permission from his 
father-in-law, the King of Wurtemberg, to join his wife. 
In February, 1816, the king conferred on him the title 
of Count de Montfort, — still not allowing him to appear 
at court, or enjoy unrestrained liberty. Jerome, how- 
ever, two years afterward, obtained leave to settle in 
the Austrian dominions. 

Of all J^apoleon's brothers, Jerome was unquestion- 
ably the least indebted to nature. He has been truly 
described as a good-natured, silly, unprincipled volup- 
tuary ; whose only wish was to enjoy the sensual grat- 
ifications of royalty, without submitting to its toils, 
but, at the same time, without any natural inclination 
to exercise its rigors. His subjects were accustomed to 
call him " Heliogabalus in miniature." !N"otwithstand- 
ing the bustle and splendor which he created among 
them, the Hessians most cordially detested him and 
his whole crew of corrupters and squanderers. 'Na- 
poleon they feared and cursed ; Jerome they despised 
and laughed at. When, on his flight, he carried off 
the public treasures, and even the furniture of the pal- 
ace, they were thunderstruck, "not at the meanness 



of the thing, but at the possibility of King Jerome 
possessing so much foresight! " 

There is, however, one evidence in Jerome's favor, 
of which it would be unjust to deprive him. On the 
downfall of Napoleon, the King of Wurtemberg tried 
hard to prevail on his daughter to separate from her 
husband. The princess, w^ho clung with true female 
constancy to her disgraced husband, in reply to her 
father's solicitations, wrote two affectionate, touching, 
and truly noble-minded letters, by which, to use Na- 
poleon's expression, she "honorably inscribed her name 
in history." She avowed Ler irrevocable resolution to 
live and die with one to whom she was bound by 
honor and duty, and whom neither could permit her 
to leave, especially in his misfortunes. She appealed 
to her irreproachable conduct while a child, to prove 
that she was no stranger to the voice of duty, and that 
her conduct as a wife and a mother might be expected 
to be equally blameless. She acknowledged that the 
match w^as originally one of policy, but affirmed, that 
her husband now possessed her heart, and that her 
happiness depended on her continuing with him. 
"Best of fathers, (concluded this amiable woman,) I 
throw myself at your feet, and implore you to desist 
from your purpose ; for, on this point, my resolution 
and my principles are unalterable. It would be cruel 
to compel me to continue a contest in which I should 
be opposed to a father, whom I cherish more than I do 
my own existence." 

After the death of the Princess Catharina, in 1835, 
Jerome removed to Florence, where he remained until 
Iftie Kevolution of 1848, when he returned to Paris, 



344 



THE BONAPARTE E'AMltY. 



where he still resides. The admirable Catharina of 
"Wurtemberg bore him three children — two sons and 
a daughter. Jerome ISTapoleon, the eldest, (born in 
1814,) was remarkable for his extraordinary resem- 
blance to the Emperor; but died in 1846, without 

aving distinguished himself in any way. Napoleon, 
the youngest, (born in 1823,) was elected to sit in the 
IN'ational Assembly of France, after the last Revo- 
lution, and is known for his ultra-republican views. 
The daughter, Letitia Matilde, married, in 1841, a 
wealthy Russian nobleman. Count Demidoff, with 
whom she passes her time, partly at Petersburg, and 
partly at Paris. Jerome had a son by his American 
wife, born shortly after the separation of his parents. 
He has continued to reside in this country. 

Marie Annie Eliza, eldest of ITapoleon's three sis- 
ters, was born on the 8th of January, 17T7. In May, 
1T97, she was married to Eelix Bacciochi, a native of 
Corsica, of a noble family, but at that time only a 
captain of infantry. In 1800, her husband being 
absent with his regiment, Madame Bacciochi went to 
Paris, where she remained until 1805. That year, the 
republic of Lucca, and afterward that of Piombino were 
changed by E'apoleon into a principality, and bestowed 
on Eliza. Upon this occasion her husband was created 
a prince. It is related of him that when the principal 
personages of the capital were presented to his new- 
made highness, being accustomed to republican man- 
ners, they apologized for acquitting themselves rather 
awkwardly at court. "Bacciochi, however, put them 
quite at their ease, by good-naturedly answering, "In 
that case, we must excuse one another ; for I have been 



ELIZA BONAPARTE. 345 

just as little in the habit of acting the prince, as you 
the courtiers." 

In March, 1809, Eliza was further created Grand 
Duchess and governess-general of Tuscany ; and in 
her administration of Lucca, she displayed a good 
deal of that energy of character which marked the 
genius of Napoleon. She conducted the department 
for foreign affairs herself, corresponded directly with 
the French minister, whom she often resisted, and 
sometimes obliged her brother to interfere in the dis- 
cussions. Jealous of her authority, Eliza allowed her 
husband to take little or no share in the government. 
At public ceremonies his place was always after hers ; 
and at reviews he was merely her aid-de-camp. She 
was fond of luxury, and gave way to the feminine 
weakness of encouraging admirers, who, if common 
fame may be credited, were not suffered to sigh in vain. 
By a lively writer of the day she has been designated 
as " the Semiramis of Lucca." She nevertheless proved 
herself, on numerous occasions, the friend of improve- 
ment. She constructed new roads, drained marches, 
colonized the deserted wastes of Piombino, founded 
seminaries for education, and, when called upon to re- 
linquish her throne, had taken measures for the estab- 
lishment of an institute for the encouragement of arts 
and sciences. An enlightened traveler states her to 
have been greatly beloved by her subjects ; and he 
goes so far as to add, that during her reign the princi- 
pality of Lucca " had become a paradise." 

In 1815, on the occupation of her states by the 
troops of the allies, Eliza was desirous of taking up 
her abode at Bologna ; but she was sent to join her 



346 THE BONAPARTE FAMILY. 

sister Caroline, the ex-queen of ISTaples, in Bohemia. 
Some time afterward she obtained permission to settle 
at Trieste, where, on the 9th of August, 1820, she died. 
We are told that Napoleon, on accidentally rep,ding at 
St. Helena an account of his sister's death, was thrown 
into a state of stupor, and continued for some time 
motionless, like one a prey to the most violent grief. 
"Eliza, (he said,) has just shown us the way. Death, 
which seemed to overlook our family, now begins to 
strike it. I shall be the next to follow her to the grave." 

The peaceable disposition of Bacciochi formed a 
striking contrast with the active, bustling spirit of his 
wife. He seems to have been considered a good sort 
of man, who did not care to apply himself to business, 
and only sought to indulge in the comforts and advan- 
tages of his situation. Bacciochi and Eliza were the 
parents of two children — Napoleonne Eliza, born June 
3d, 1806, and at an early age married to a Count 
Carnerata ; and Jerome Charles, born July 3d, 1810. 

Maria Pauline, the second of ITapoleon's sisters, was 
born on the 20th of October, 1780. A sad accompa- 
niment of vanity and frivolity, she emerged into wo- 
manhood a very paragon of beauty. At the age of 
sixteen she had displayed a very reprehensible taste, 
by becoming warmly attached to Stanislaus Ereron, 
who superintended the operations of the guillotine at 
Marseilles until the death of Kobespierre. Eortu- 
nately saved from pollution with such a wretch, and 
her reputation becoming endangered by the crowd 
of admirers she encouraged around her, her brother 
hastened her marriage with young Leclerc, an officer 

of humble origin, but of considerable promise, whom 

15^ 



PAULINE BONAPAETE. 347 

lie immediately elevated to the rank of general. Pauline 
was by no means favorable to this union, insomuch that, 
when her husband was appointed, in 1801, to head the 
expedition to St. Domingo, she refused to accompany 
him, and it required all the authority of ISTapoleon, who 
wished to silence the calumnies of his enemies by so 
signal a proof of his faith in the success of the enter- 
prise, to compel hei compliance with an imperative 
duty. She went out to the Antilles accordingly, and 
by her enlivening entertainments, struggled for a time 
against the desolations of pestilence ; but after the 
death of Leclerc, she gladly escaped from so dismal a 
scene ; and carrying back his embalmed body and her 
treasures in the same coffin, she hurried with impatient 
alacrity to enjoy again the pleasures of luxurious Paris. 
Never did a more gay or fascinating widow flutter in 
the brilliant circles of that dissipated capital. Her 
ambition was to outstrip in attractions the graceful 
Josephine. Her displays were theatrical and indeli- 
cate, while in envy she exceeded the usual measure 
of female weakness, although in other respects she was 
full of generosity and good nature. She often pro- 
voked the displeasure of l^apoleon, but never failed 
to pacify him by her blandishments, for he knew she 
was really attached to him, and he willingly suffered 
himself to be coaxed into the pardon of her follies. 
Nevertheless, he deemed it prudent she should take 
again, with all dispatch, another husband, who might 
at least throw over her the mantle of the conjugal 
name. Accordingly, in 1803, she was married to the 
Prince Camille Borghese, an Italian nobleman of large 
possessions, who united to eligibility in this respect 



348 THE BONAPASTE FAMILY. 

the complaisance of a high-bred consort. During the 
early period of the Kevolution, he was known only 
by his having filled, with many other noble names, 
the muster-roll of a corps of national guards raised by 
the patriots of the city of Kome, where he was remem- 
bered for the more than Eoman indolence of his dispo- 
sition, and the perfect stoicism with which he performed 
the duties of his military toilet, amid the crash of em- 
pires and the dissolution of the entire frame of European 
society. 

Shortly after Pauline's marriage, the prince took her 
to his estates in Italy. Her journey from Paris to 
Pome partook of the character of a public progress. 
She was every where accompanied by a guard of 
honor, and received homage in every town and village, 
as sister of the Emperor and wife of a wealthy Italian 
prince. In a few months after his marriage, Borghese 
reverted to the frivolous and dissipated habits of his 
youth. The princess soon had rivals ; the public de- 
cencies were not always preserved ; in a few years a 
separation took place, which, notwithstanding various 
attempts to negotiate a return, continued uninter- 
rupted till within a few months of the lady's decease. 

Pauline now took up her residence principally at 
Paris or Keuilly. She is allowed to have been at this 
time one of the most beautiful women in Europe. 
Neither jealousy nor envy, so quick to discover faults 
in whatever claims general admiration, ever presumed 
to Lint at the slightest blemish in her classical coun- 
tenance. Artists were unanimous in considering her 
a perfect Yenus de Medicis ; and so little was her en- 
couragement of the fine arts limited by the ordinar;^ 



PAULINE BONAPAETE. 349 

ideas of decorum, that Canova was permitted to 
model from her person a naked Yenus, which is es- 
teemed one of the most exquisite of his works. It is 
reported of Pauline, that being asked by an English 
peeress how she could submit to such an exposure of 
her person, she conceived that the question only related 
to physical inconveniences, and answered "that there 
was a fire in the apartment ! " 

Throughout the whole of JSTapoleon's short reign in 
the island of Elba, Pauline proved that she had some 
head and more heart ; and a large share of the execu- 
tion of the popular conspiracy which ensued was in 
her hands. The greater portion of her own private 
jewels were sacrificed to the Emperor on his return to 
France ; and w^hen every hope was lost, she proposed, 
with a frame and health debilitated in the extreme, to 
watch by his death-bed at St. Helena. With this view 
she addressed, in July, 1821, only three weeks before 
the intelligence of her brother's death reached Europe, 
an earnest appeal to the Earl of Liverpool, then at the 
head of the British government. " The malady, (said 
she,) by which the Emperor is attacked, is mortal at 
St. Helena. In the name of all the members of the 
family, I claim a change of climate. If so just a re- 
quest be refused, it will be a sentence of death passed 
upon him ; and, in this case, I demand permission to 
depart for St. Helena, to rejoin my brother, and to re- 
ceive his parting breath. I know that the moments of 
his life are counted, and I should eternally reproach 
myself, if I did not employ all the means in my power 
to soften his last hours, and to prove my devotion to 
him." The prayer was granted ; but the concession 
came too lat^ 



350 THE BONAPARTE FAMILY. 

Aftei the fall of l^'apoleon, Pauline preserved her 
position at Rome with^reat eclat ; though certainly 
with some diminution, in consequence of her separa- 
tion from her hi^sband. She was allowed to occupy 
he splendid building of the Borghese palace, the prince 
himself residing at Floience. Her resid^ce Wcis dis- 
tinguished by order, elegance, and conrftp! It v/as the 
most hospitable house at Rome ; her dinner-parties 
were frequent and sumptuous; her concerts and soirees 
weekly. In her lively circle a great number of the 
cardinals were always to be found ; and it has often 
been observed, by way of pleasantry, that, since the 
days of Pope Joan, no lady was ever so attended by 
cardinals as the beautiful Pauline. Her person was 
not tall, nor imposing ; but she had about her all that 
indefinable persuasiveness which captures the affections 
in silence. Her forehead was classically small; her 
eyes of a gentle blue, and generally suffused with a 
sort of coquettish sleepishness, which, whether pro- 
duced by pain or pleasure, wooed and won the imagi- 
nation more effectually than the brightest sparkle from 
the haughtiest eye. The nose was straight and deli- 
cate ; the mouth exquisite, particularly when she spoke. 
On her head the most beautiful hair was generally 
moulded into the choicest forms. Her voice was of 
the most fascinating sweetness, and enveloped every 
thing in its charm. Her conversation is represented 
as having been perfectly easy, often graceful, but al- 
ways trifling. There was nothing in it of the daring 
and decision of her family. Once, however, when the 
embassador Blacas had caused a French painter, whom 
she had employed in the decoration of the Yilla 



CAROLINE BONAPARTE. 351 

p2k«»Iina, to retire from her service, she replied to the 
notification, that, " A government which feared women 
coald have little to hope from men." She spent the 
greater part of her latter days in Tuscany, far from 
Kome and her former circle of associates. She became 
reconciled to her husband, in whose arms sne expired, 
at the Borghese palace near Florence, on the 9th of 
June, 1825. 

Caroline Maria Annonciade, the youngest of Ka- 
poleon's sisters, was born March 26, 1782. In 1800, 
she was married to Joachim Murat, one of l^apoleon's 
generals. In 1806, Caroline was created Grand Duchess 
of Berg, and two years afterward she became Queen 
of ITaples. In 1815, when the reverses of the French 
and the advance of the Austrian army overthrew the 
government of Murat, and the city of JSTaples was on 
the brink of anarchy, plunder and massacre, Caroline 
adopted measures equally prompt, wise and energetic, 
for preserving the public tranquillity. She assembled 
the guards, and, assuming their uniform, addressed 
them in a speech full of spirit and eloquence. She 
was on horseback nearly the whole of the day, and 
remained to the last hour, visiting every post, and 
assuring herself of the vigilance of all the authorities, 
until the approach of the Austrians compelled her to 
capitulate to an English ofiicer, who received her and 
her children on board his ship ; to which she was ac- 
tually followed by the infuriated lazzaroni, insulting 
and shocking her ears by the most licentious songs. 

ligature had endowed Caroline with a resolute temper, 
a vigorous understanding, lofty ideas, and a flex- 
ible and delicate mind. Her manners were highly 



352 THE BONAPARTE FAMILT. 

graceful and captivating. Talleyrand said of her, that 
" She had Cromwell's head on the shoulders of a pretty 
woman." Nothing mortified her more, when only 
Grand Duchess of Berg, than to be constrained to ad- 
dress the wife^ of her brother Joseph as " Your ma- 
jesty ; " and she often complained to the Emperor of 
what she called his undue partiality to that prince, 
and his forgetfulness of herself and husband. " Your 
complaints surprise me, (said ITapoleon, on one occa- 
sion ;) to hear you talk, any one would imagine that I 
had deprived you of your succession to the inheritance 
of the late king your father ! " 

Made a widow, in 1815, by the execution of her 
husband, Caroline Bonaparte, with her four children, 
settled, after various changes of residence, at Trieste, 
where, under the title of Countess of Lipona, she re- 
sided with her sister Eliza. In 1836, she returned to 
Paris, where, for some time, she enjoyed a pension 
fi'om Louis Philippe, but finally removed to Florence. 
She died in May, 1839, at the age of fifty-seven. Of 
her four children, the oldest, l^apoleon Achille Murat, 
(born in 1801,) came to the United States in 1820. 
Here he married, resided for a time in 'New York, 
then practiced as an advocate in Georgia, and after- 
ward purchased a plantation in Florida. He visited 
Europe in 1831, and wrote a book " on the moral and 
political condition " of the people of the United States. 
He returned to this country, but finally, in 1839, again 
went to Europe and died in 184T. His younger brother, 
Kapoleon Lucien Charles, (born in 1803,) went through 
a similar career — coming to the United States when 
young, marrying an American wife, entering into 



LETITIA BONAPAETE. 853 

practice as a lawyer in E'ew York, and yet, notwith- 
standing this virtual naturalization, finally forced back 
to Europe by the ineradicable Napoleonic interest. 
His two sisters, (the one born in 1802, the other in 
1805,) were married, the elder to a Count Rasponi, the 
younger to Count Pepoii, a well-known Italian patriot, 
who was driven as a political exile to London, where 
he obtained a professorship in a college. 

Letitia Bonaparte, the mother of Napoleon, went to 
Eome, after the second abdication of her son; she 
lived to the extreme age of eighty-six, and died Febru- 
ary 2, 1836. She was a woman of extraordinary vigor 
of mind, and possessed much pride and loftiness of 
sj^irit. Shortly after Napoleon's assumption of the impe- 
rial purple, happening to meet his mother in the gardens 
of St. Cloud, he, halt-playfully, half-seriously, presented 
her his hand to kiss. She flung it back indignantly, 
and tendering her own, exclaimed, in the presence of 
her suite, " C'est a yous de baiser la main de celle qui 
Yous a donne la vie" — "It is your duty to kiss the 
hand of her who gave you life." Napoleon imme- 
diately stooped over Jus mother's hand, and affection- 
ately kissed it. 

From the period of the imprisonment of Napoleon 

at St. Helena, until his death, her mind seems to have 

been engrossed by one object — that being, whose 

pride she had reproved in ibe days of his brightest 

glory. Napoleon fully appreciated her love. "For 

me, (said he,) she would doom herself to live on brown 

bread." In October, 1818, she addressed an affecting 

appeal to the allied sovereigns assembled at Aix-la- 

Chapelle, in his behalf: "Sires, (said she,) I am a 
23 



354 THE BONAPAETE FAMILY. 

mother, and my son's life is dearer to me than my 
own. In the name of Him whose essence is goodness, 
and of whom your imperial and royal majesties are 
the image, I entreat you to put a period to his misery, 
and to restore him to liberty. For this, I implore God, 
and I implore you, who are his vicegerents on earth. 
Reasons of state have their limits ; and posterity, 
which gives immortality, adores, above all things, the 
generosity of conquerors." The death of Madame 
Letitia, which was preceded by long and severe bodily 
suifering, took place in February, 1836, fifteen years 
after the decease of her imperial son at St. Helena, 
and L early four after that of his sickly heir at Vi- 
enna. Of the eighty-six years that she had lived, 
fifty had been passed in widowhood — a widowhood 
how eventful ! 

Eugene Beauharnais, the son of Josephine, after the 
events of 1815, repaired to the court of his father-in- 
law, the King of Bavaria, where he received the title 
of Duke of Leuchtenberg. He died in 1824:, in the 
forty-fourth year of his age, leaving two sons and four 
daughters. Most of these have made what may be 
called fortunate matches. Of the sons, Augustus 
espoused, in 1835, the young Queen of Portugal, 
Donna Maria, daughter of Don Pedro, but he unfor- 
tunately died shortly after the nuptials ; the youngest, 
Maximilian, now Duke of Leuchtenberg, obtained, in 
1839, the hand of the Grand Duchess Maria Nicola- 
jewna, daughter of Nicholas, Czar of Russia. The eldest, 
daughter, Josephine, is the present Queen of Sweden, 
having married Oscar, son of Bernadotte, in 1823. 
The second is the wife of a German prince ; the third 



THE BONAPARTE FAMILY. 355 

married Don Pedro, Emperor of Brazil, and thereby 
became the mother-in-law of her own brother, the hus* 
baud of Donna Maria ; the fourth married a certain 
Count of Wurtemberg. To complete this medlej of 
European alliances, the daughter of Stephanie. Grand 
Duchess of Baden, and niece of the Empress Jose- 
phine, has been recently united to a Scotch nobleman, 
the Marquis of Douglas, onlj son of the Duke of 
Hamilton, ranking one of the highest among the Brit- 
ish peerage for martial ancestry and vast possessions. 

'No family, plebeian or patrician, has ever become so 
truly considerable and cosmopolitan, either as regards 
elevation or diffusion, as the Bonapartes. Xapoleon 
was twice crowned ; Joseph was successively King of 
ISTaples and of Spain ; Louis was elevated to the throne 
of Holland, and afterward declined two other crowns ; 
Jerome was made King of Westphalia ; one of the sis- 
ters was a queen, and the others were elevated to high 
dignities. The immediate descendants of these have 
formed royal and aristocratic alliances. It cannot be 
denied that, on the whole, they have merited this dis- 
tinction, for they have generally remained faithful to 
the cause of progress, in whose name they first ob- 
tained power. Their fortunes, for a time partially 
obscured, are again brightening. Scarcely had the 
Eevolution of February, 1848, occurred, when, rising 
from their haunts in all parts of Europe, the various 
members of the family, with Jerome, the old ex-king 
of Westphalia at their head, hurried to the scene of 
action. France received them with open arms. At 
the first elections to the National Assembly three 
of them were returned as representatives — Pierre 



356 THE BONAPAETE FAMILY. 

Bonaparte, tlie second son of Lucien, and the brothei 
of the ornithologist, aged thirtj^-three ; Napoleon Bona- 
parte, the son of Jerome, aged twenty-six ; and ]^a- 
poleon Lucien Charles Murat, the former New York 
lawyer, aged forty-five. The case of Louis Napoleon, 
as we have seen, was more peculiar. People naturally 
hesitated before admitting to the benefits of republican 
citizenship so exceptional a personage as the imperial- 
ist adventurer of Strasbourg and Boulogne. Twice he 
was elected by several departments simultaneously, 
and twice he found himself compelled to decline the 
honor ; and it was not till after the supplementary 
elections of September, 1848, when he was returned at 
the head of the poll for Paris, with a number of other 
candidates, that he was able to defy opposition and 
take his seat. Once restored to France, the outburst 
of opinion in his favor was instantaneous and univer- 
sal. From Calais to the Pyrenees, from the Bay of 
Biscay to the Khine, he was the hero of the hour. 
Lamartine, Cavaignac, and everybody else that had 
done an efiicient thing, were forgotten ; and the result 
of the great election of the 10th of December was, 
that, as if in posthumous justification of enterprises 
that the world till then had agreed to laugh at, the 
former prisoner of Ham was raised, by the suffrages 
of five millions of people, to the presidency of the 
French republic. 



CHAPTEE VII. 

THE "COUP D' ETAT" AND EMPIRE. 

The act of the French nation which placed Louis 
Napoleon at the head of the Eepnblic, and confided to 
his hands whatsoever remained of the authority of 
government, was undoubtedly as clear and emphatical 
an act of popular sovereignty as had ever been per- 
formed by a vast nation. It was scarcely less unani- 
mous than that acclamation of the emancipated citi- 
zens of the United States w^hich called the successful 
defender of our fortunes in the field, to be the sage 
and pacific founder of our federal constitution. Re- 
garding, as we do, the will of the people to be the 
highest sanction of authority, and the safest rule of 
government, we must acknowledge that there has sel- 
dom been an election more absolute than that in 
France, December 10, 1848, which elevated Louis ISTa- 
poleon to the presidency of that great nation. It set 
aside every conflicting claim ; it baffled every hostile 
calculation. The full consequences of the choice then 
made by the French people are not yet completely 
developed. 

The first act of Louis Napoleon was to assure the 
Assembly and the country that he was devoted to 
republican principles, and that the aim of his adminis- 
tration would be to develop and establish republicai) 



358 

institutions. " We have," he said, "a great mission to 
fulfill — it is, to found a republic in the interest of all, 
and a government, just and firm, which shall be ani- 
mated by a sincere love of progress, without being 
either reactionary or Utopian. Let us be men of one 
country, not party men, and by the help of God we 
shall be able, at least, to do some good, if we are able 
to do no great things." The suffrages of the nation, he 
said, and his personal sentiments, commanded his fu- 
ture conduct, and imposed upon him duties which he 
would fufill as a man of honor. He would treat as ene- 
mies of the country whoever should attempt to subvert 
the constitution, and between him and the Assem- 
bly would exist the most perfect harmony of views. He 
would exert himself to place society on its real basis, 
and to relieve the sufferings of a people who had borne 
such generous and intelligent testimony. He would 
endeavor to restore to the government the moral force 
of w^hich it stood in need, and to maintain peace and 
order. He had called around him men distinguished 
for talent and patriotism, who, notwithstanding the 
differences of their political origin, would assist him 
in consolidating the new institutions of the coun- 
try. He then eulogized the becoming conduct and 
loyalty of which General Cavaignac had given so 
many and such signal proofs, and pledged himself 
strenuously to labor to accomplish the great mission 
of founding a republic. 

The constitution of the republic, which Louis Na- 
poleon had sworn to support, had been adopted by the 
Njitional Assembly in November, 1848. It com- 
menced by declaring France to be a republic. The 



THE PRESIDENT AND THE ASSEMBLY. 359 

legislative power was conferred on an Assembly of 
nine hundred members, to be elected by universal 
Buifrage. All Frenchmen of the age of twenty-one 
were constituted electors, and were to be eligible to 
office at the age of twenty-five. The executive power 
was vested in the president, to be elected for four 
years, and to be ineligible to re-election until after an 
interval of four years. A council of state was also 
constituted, consisting of forty members, to be elected 
by the Assembly, and were to hold office six years. 
They were to be consulted in prescribed cases, but 
were to have no voice respecting the finances, the state 
of the army, or the ratifications of treaties. The vice 
president of the republic was to be president of the 
council. It was provided that the constitution might 
be revised in case the Assembly, during the last 
year of its term, should vote any modification to be 
advisable. 

From the outset, it was assumed by a large body 
of the Assembly, that Louis J^apoleon would prove 
unfaithful to his oath, and endeavor to establish an 
imperial dynasty. With this view, an active opposi- 
tion was organized, which, however well-grounded 
were their suspicions, or however patriotic their mo- 
tives, could have no other tendency than to urge the 
President into the adoption of unauthorized, but deci- 
sive measures, for the maintenance of his authority. 

Another circumstance rendered an ultimate collision 
between the President and the Assembly almost in- 
evitable. The constitution of the republic had been 
adopted with extreme haste. The distinctive rights 
and duties of the Assembly and of the President had 



360 THE COUP d'etat, 

not been defined with sufficient clearness. In the ex- 
ercise of its prerogatives, either party was open to 
the jealousy of the other. The Assembly comprised 
adherents of the elder and younger branches of tho 
Bourbons, of socialists and ultra republicans. There 
was always a majority against Louis J^apoleon, except 
when, playing faction against faction, party against 
party, he gained a momentary ascendancy. He had no 
power to prorogue or dissolve the Assembly, and thus 
permit the people by a new election to approve or 
condemn his policy. Being constrained to select his 
ministry from the majority of the existing Assembly, 
every measure he succeeded in carrying was accom- 
plished through a new combination, and of course 
occasioned the formation of a new ministry. If an 
appeal to the people, through the dissolution of one 
Assembly and the election of another, could have 
been made, the great disaster which has befallen re- 
publican institutions in France, would probably have 
been avoided. 

Every successive month, after the elevation of Louis 
Napoleon, exhibited an increasing hostility between 
the President and the Assembly. But throughout 
these difficulties, Louis Napoleon evinced a political 
skill and dexterity scarcely inferior to that manifested 
in the field by the Emperor Napoleon. Although his 
personal adherents in the Assembly never exceeded 
one-third of the members of that body, he managed 
to carry his measures by a division of his oppo- 
nents. Every conflict with the Assembly considerably 
strengthened his popularity with the people, for he 
succeeded iji convincing the middle classes that the 



LomS NAPOLlSOiT Af SAM. 561 

only hope of peace and stability rested on his pos- 
session of power. In one of his tours through the 
country, he visited Ham, the scene of his former im- 
prisonment, and in a speech at a public banquet, made 
the following remarks : "ISTow that I am the choice of 
all France, because the legitimate chief of this great 
nation, I cannot glory in a captivity which had for its 
cause an attack against a regular government. When 
we see what evils follow even the most just revolu- 
tions, I can scarcely comprehend the audacity of hav- 
ing wished to take on myself the terrible responsibility 
of effecting a change. I do not, therefore, complain 
of having expiated in this place, by an imprisonment 
of six years, my rashness against the laws of my coun- 
try ; and it is with happiness that, in the very place 
of my suffering, I propose to you a toast in honor of — 
'the men who are determined, in spite of their convic- 
tions, to respect the institutions of their country.'" 

It must not be forgotten, in an estimate of French 
affairs, that at the time of the Ke volution of 1848, no 
great party out of Paris, was in favor of a republic. 
The monarchy was annulled by the excited populace 
of Paris, and a handful of resolute individuals, deeply 
penetrated with the conviction that all kings are mis- 
chievous, and prompted by a sincere desire to frame a 
government upon thoroughly democratic principles, 
seized the occasion when aU was confusion, to decree 
a republic. Once decreed, no party thought it safe to 
unsettle a framework whose destruction might result 
in the greatest calamities. The probable rivalry be- 
tween the Bonaparte, Bourbon and Orleans parties, in 

the event of the restoration of a dynasty, offered serious 

16 



363 i-SE cotj? d'etat. 

objections to a resumption of monarchical government. 
Hence, the republic, once proclaimed, accepted by 
some foreign powers and rejected by some of its neigh- 
bors, became inevitable. But the whole career of the 
first Assembly was a series of intrigues against the 
President, of squabbles among its members, of assaults 
upon the liberties of the nation, of violations of its 
trust, and of decisions which gave the lie to its origin 
and its professions. Elected under a republic to per- 
fect and consolidate republican institutions — com- 
mencing life by swearing allegiance and fidelity to the 
republic, it was in great part composed of Bourbons, 
Orleanists, and Bonapartists desirous of making Louis 
Napoleon Emperor. These parties made no secret of 
their actual views or of their ulterior designs. Proba 
bly not more than two hundred and fifty were genuine 
republicans, who were faithful to their important trust. 
The Orleanists openly visited Louis Philippe and in- 
■trigued for the return of the exiled family. The "le- 
gitimists" — adherents of the elder branch of the Bour- 
bons — avowedly received their directions from Wiesba- 
den, where the representatives of that family resided. 
The Bonapartists openly sighed for the empire, and 
were encouraged by Louis Napoleon, although he re- 
mained professedly attached to the republic. A sad- 
der, more factious, or more disreputable spectacle than 
that presented by President and Assembly, a free 
country had seldom seen. The legislative body turned 
around almost immediately upon the constituents who 
had elected them. They abolished universal suffrage 
by a majority of 4:66 to 223 and disfranchised three 
millions of electors. They sent an army to crush the 



l»OLtCf Ot LOUiS KAPOLEON. 863 

republic of Rome, then so gallantly fighting for its 
existence, by 469 votes to 180. They handed over the 
education of the youth of the country exclusively to 
the catholic clergy by 445 votes to 187. They enacted 
laws and sanctioned proceedings against the liberty of 
the press, more severe than Louis Philippe had evei 
ventured upon. 

While the Assembly were thus conspiring against, 
and violating and discrediting the constitution to which 
they owed their existence, and which they had sworn 
to maintain, the conduct of the President seemed also 
unpatriotic and dishonest. Almost from the day of 
his inauguration, it was evident that he was deter- 
mined on a re-election — by a revision of the constitu- 
tion, if that could be obtained, if not, in defiance of 
the constitution. It is almost certain that he aimed, 
not only at a prolongation, but at an increase of his 
power. For this he flattered the army ; for this he 
removed and appointed military and civil oflScers ; for 
this he made concessions to the priests ; for this he 
joined the majority which enacted the law restricting 
sufirage; and for this he afterward joined the republicans 
in demanding the repeal of that law. His actions ap- 
peared to display a patient, plodding, and unscrupulous 
ambition. But, on the other hand, he always evinced 
so much sagacity, and often such dignity ; his language 
and bearing were moulded with such unerring tact to 
suit the tastes and fancies of the French people ; and 
his personal objects, so far as they were seen, were sup- 
posed to harmonize so much with the apparent inter- 
ests of the country, that his popularity evidently 
increased with all classes. His messages and speeches, 



364 tnu cotjp D'lJTAf. 

wiiatever may be thought of their sincerity, Wei-e al- 
ways characterized by moderation and an apparent pat- 
riotism. His speech at a public banquet in Paris, on 
the first anniversary of his election to the presidency, 
will serve as an example of the style and tone of his 
addresses : 

'•Gentlemen, — I thank the municipal body for hav- 
ing invited me to the hotel de ville, and for having 
to-day distributed bountiful assistance to the indigent. 
To relieve misfortune was in my eyes the best manner 
of celebrating the 10th of December. I shall not here 
recapitulate what we have done during the last year, 
but the only thing of which I am proud is of having, 
thanks to the men who have surrounded and who still 
surround me, maintained legality intact, and tranquil- 
lity without collision. The year which is about to com- 
mence will, I hope, be still more fertile in happy re- 
sults, more particularly if all the great powers remain 
closely united. By great powers, I mean those elected 
by the people — the Assembly and the President. 
Yes, I have faith in their fruitful union ; we shall 
march forward, instead of remaining motionless ; for 
what gives irresistible force, even to the most humble 
mortal, is to have before him a great object to attain, 
and behind him a great cause to defend. For us, this 
cause is that of entire civilization. It is the cause of 
that enlightened and sacred liberty, which every day 
finds itself more and more threatened by the excesses 
which profane it. It is the cause of the laboring 
classes, whose welfare is incessantly compromised by 
those senseless theories which, by rousing the most 
brutal passions and the most legitimate fears, excite 
hatred against even the idea of ameliorations. It is 
the cause of the representative government, which loses 
its salutary prestige by the acrimony of the language, • 
and the delays which arise in the adoption of the most 
useful measures. It is the cause of the grandeur and 
the independence of France ; for, if the ideas which 
we oppose were to triumph, they would destroy our 



FRENCH INTERViJNTlON IN KOME. 3b5 

finances, our armj, our credit, and our preponderance, 
while forcing us to declare war against the whole of 
Europe. J^ever, therefore, has a cause been more just, 
more patriotic, and more sacred than ours. As to the 
object which we have to al^ain, it is as noble as the 
cause. It is not the pitiful copy of a past of any kind 
that we have to make, but it is to call on all men of 
heart and intelligence to consolidate something which 
is more grand than a charter, more durable than a dy- 
nasty — the eternal principles of religion and morality — 
at the same time as the new rules of a wholesome policy. 
The city of Paris, so intelligent, and which does not 
wish to remember the revolutionary agitations except 
to appease them, will understand a line of conduct 
which, in following the narrow path traced out by the 
constitution, permits the view of a vast hoiizon of hope 
and of security. It has been often said, that when 
honor is spoken of, it finds an echo in France. Let us 
hope that when reason is spoken of, it will find an 
equsal echo in the minds as in the hearts of men de- 
voted, before all things, to their country. I propose 
a toast — ' To the city of Paris and to the municipal 
body.'" 

For the double purpose of conciliating the pope, and 
of preventing the increase of Austrian influence in 
Italy, one of the earliest acts of Louis Napoleon was, 
to send an army, under the command of General Oudi- 
not, against the republicans of Rome, who had driven 
the pope from his dominions and established a liberal 
government. Pope Pius IX., who commenced his pon- 
tificate in 1846, was at first inclined to favor many 
reforms in the papal states ; but in the revolutionary 
movement, which swept like a hurricane over the 
thrones of Europe in 1848, he found his people desirous 
of obtaining more thorough reforms than he was wil- 
ling to grant, and in the conflict which ensued, the 
republicans obtained the mastery. A brief notice of 



666 tME COtJi' D'ETAf. 

these events cannot be without interest, as they ate 
intimately connected with the development of Louis 
ISTapoleon's policy. 

About thirty years before his elevation to the pa- 
pacy, Pius IX. had been one of the gayest, hand- 
somest and most fascinating gentlemen in Italy ; and 
was on the eve of marriage with a lovely and noble 
lady, to whom he was tenderly attached, when death 
suddenly deprived him of his treasure. Her loss occa- 
sioned him such deep sorrow, that he renounced the 
hopes and pleasures of the world, and became a priest- 
He had, until then, borne the epaulettes of the Austrian 
service, and was distinguished among his companions 
by his proud and gallant bearing. Now, his martial 
ardor was exchanged for a martyr's zeal, and he went 
as a missionary to preach the gospel among the tribes 
of South America. In vain did he expose himself to 
the toils and perils incident to this life of self-devo- 
tion ; he survived them all ; and after an absence of 
some years, returned to Italy, whither he had been 
recalled by his superiors. Here his worth and merit 
soon became known. He was shortly afterward ap- 
pointed bishop of Imola, then archbishop, next cardi- 
nal, and now he had been elected pope at the age 
of fifty-four years! — a circumstance almost unprece- 
dented in the annals of the sacred college. The popu- 
larity of the new pontiff was still more apparent on 
the day of his coronation. On that morning, his name 
was repeated with the wildest enthusiasm by the vast 
masses of people who thronged the streets to witness 
the solemnities of the day. The enthusiasm of the 
Bomans did not end with these splendid and solemo 



fits It. s61 

ceremonies of the coronation. All men spoke of Pius 
IX. as being the dispenser of no empty blessing ; but 
that he came to bear liberty to the nations, redress to 
the wronged, and consolation to the afflicted. Such, 
truly, seemed to be his ambition. 

During the first two years of his pontificate, many 
deeds of goodness and of mercy crowned his life. 
Wheresoever misery appeared among the Romans, 
there also was Pius IX. to be found, lending his best 
endeavors to relieve or allay it. On one occasion, 
when a certain district near Rome was deluged by the 
overflowing of the Tiber, so that the wretched inhabi- 
tants were flooded in their dwellings, and they them- 
selves exposed to the complicated miseries of want, 
and of exposure to the inclemency of the weather, 
tidings of their misfortune reached the pontifl[''s ear. 
Not content with sending some aid to the sufferers, he 
resolved to inspect their condition himself, and mount- 
ing his horse, rode off" briskly to the scene of distress, 
followed by the cardinals, who, accustomed only to 
lounge luxuriously in their coaches, inwardly cursed 
the active benevolence of their new poj)e, which would 
not suffer him to indulge in lazy benevolence. Pius 
IX., on his accession to the papal chair, found himself 
placed in circumstances so intricate and perplexing, 
that it would have required the highest genius to di- 
rect them to a happy issue. By nature benevolent 
and firm, with a strong sense of justice, possessing an 
intelligent and cultivated mind, he longed to give free- 
dom to his people, and to ameliorate their condition, 
morally as well as physically. At the same time, his 
attachment to the church was ardent and sincere ; and 



30S 'Me cotjp d'etat, 

while he was full of indulgence toward his people, he 
was inflexible in his reform of ecclesiastical abuses, 
and was the practical opponent of all priestly tyranny. 
Many anecdotes, corroborative of this assertion, have 
been afloat in the world. We will relate but one, 
which has reached us from an authentic source. A 
rich Italian noble, desiring in his old age to atone for 
the sins of his youth, was advised by his confessor to 
bestow the bulk of his property on the church. He 
had two nephews, who expected to inherit his fortune, 
but, swayed by priestly counsel, he assigned to each 
of them only a small annuity, and made a will, dis- 
posing of his vast wealth in favor of the priest who 
should chance to say the first mass for his soul on the 
day of his funeral. This will was safely deposited with 
the proto-notary of the Holy See. The nobleman soon 
afterward died, and the proto-notary, on opening his 
will, immediately communicated its contents to the 
sovereign pontiff. It was late at night when this news 
reached him ; but the following morning he rose before 
the dawn, hastened to the chapel where the funeral 
rites were to be formed, ordered the doors to be opened, 
and offered immediately the sacrifice of the mass. 
Having thus constituted himself the universal legatee, 
the holy father at once sent for the nephews of the 
deceased, and yielded into their hands the whole of 
their uncle's fortune. 

The letter of a distinguished Italian refugee, dated 
from Rome, in January, 1847, just after an interview 
with the pope, of whose benignity and good intentions 
he speaks with enthusiasm, thus describes his first im- 
pressions of Pius IX. : — "I think the pope is a rare 



PIUS IX 369 

and an evangelical man. I found as mucli facility in 
expressing my opinions to him as if he had been only 
my equal. We spoke long on the political condition 
of the coimtry, on its industrial resources, and du the 
liberty of the press. After much thoughtfulness of 
aspect and manner, he approached me with an air of 
confidence. ' Son, (said he,) I cannot totally change 
the form of government ! ' " Here was the seed of fu- 
ture dissensions. Pius IX. was sincere in his desire to 
reform civil as well as ecclesiastical abuses, but he was 
not prepared to grant the institutions which were de- 
sired by his people. His first prepossessions were all 
in favor of freedom and progress. He granted liberty 
of the press, and became quickly alarmed at its li- 
cense : he appointed a civic guard, and was surprised 
to find that its ardor could not be confined within the 
limits he had assigned to it ; he named a council con- 
sisting chiefiy of laymen, who were to assist him in 
the administration of civil aftairs, and listened with 
dismay to the cries for a representative assembly, who 
should have the right of governing the country as well 
as of advising its chief. 

Whether the pope was unequal to the task now as- 
signed to him, of guiding the vessel of St. Peter amid 
the storms of a revolutionary period, or whether the 
task he had undertaken was one too difficult for the 
ablest mortal to accomplish, we do not pretend to de- 
cide. Suffice it to say, that early in the year 1849, 
symptoms of reaction began to appear. The Komans 
became more exacting, and their sovereign less willing 
to concede the privileges they desired. The appoint- 
ment of Rossi, an Italian by birth, but a foreigner by 
U 



370 THE COUP d'etat 

prejudice as well as habit, to the post of prime minis- 
ter, exasperated the people, and diminished the pope's 
popularity. 

Kossi set about the business of suppressing the 
democratic movement, and from his eminent talents 
and resolute character it was believed that he would 
succeed. His avowed hostility to the people caused 
him to be regarded with hostility in turn, and finally, 
on the 15th November, 1849, he was assassinated in 
the street, as he was proceeding to open the Chambers. 
It is not known whether this act was the result of a 
conspiracy, or of a sudden impulse on the part of the 
assassin. The plans of the reactionary party were de- 
ranged by the death of their leader, while the smoul- 
dering indignation of the Roman people broke out in 
open revolt. The next day they surrounded the pon- 
tifical palace in large numbers, demanding of the 
monarch the promulgation and full adoption of Italian 
nationality as the basis of his policy, together with the 
convocation of a constituent assembly and the forma- 
tion of a federal compact for the whole Italian penin- 
sula, the declaration of war against Austria, and the 
appointment of ministers possessing the public confi- 
dence. To these demands the pope first replied eva- 
sively, and then, being pressed for an answer, flatly 
refused. This was followed by a quarrel between one 
of the sentinels and the people near him, in the course 
of which the sentinel was disarmed ; the guards then 
closed the gates of the palace and prepared for a de- 
cided resistance. Demonstrations were made of a de- 
sign to attack, whereupon they fired and scattered the 
assailants, killing a few of them; but the number 



PIUS IX. 371 

increased, and returned the shots. At last a truce was 
proclaimed, and another deputation admitted to the 
pope, who was informed that if the resistance were 
protracted, the palace would be stormed and all its 
occupants except himself put to death. Hereupon, he 
yielded so far as to appoint the ministry required, and 
the multitude quietly dispersed ; nor was any violence 
subsequently offered to either his residence or his 
friends. 

Pius, however, refused to participate in the action 
of the ministry which he had thus appointed. He 
remained in Rome eight days after these events, and 
finally, on the night of JSTovember 23d, 1848, left the 
city and went to Gaeta. The King of Naples received 
him with great satisfaction, and provided for his enter- 
tainment and that of his suite, in the most lavish 
manner. It was a great triumph for him, and for the 
whole band of European tyrants, that the man who 
had set the revolution on foot should thus come to 
them for refuge, after having recanted all his former 
imprudent liberality, and fled from his capital in dis- 
guise, by night. The popular movement, they rea- 
soned, had suffered a great loss, when the head of the 
church became arrayed against it. 

At the time of the pope's flight, the electioneeriDg 
campaign was being prosecuted in France, where Cav- 
aignac was making strenuous efforts to defeat Louis 
Napoleon. He at once comprehended that the position 
of the pope might be turned into political capital for 
himself, and lost not a moment in taking the steps ne- 
cessary in order to appear to catholic voters, the special 
friend of the pontiff. An eminent diplomatist was 



372 

dispatched to solicit his Holiness to seeK a refuge in 
France, and the minister of education and public wor- 
ship hurried to Marseilles to receive the expected guest 
with all possible honors. The maneuver was, however, 
unsuccessful ; Pius IX. preferred the cordialities of the 
King of Naples to the attractions of the hero of June, 
and the election resulted in Louis JN^apoleon becoming 
President, and in the defeat of Cavaignac. 

The new President of France was not slow to per- 
ceive that his own aspirations to increased power would 
be advanced bj a papal alliance, and lost no time in 
urging the French Assembly to send an army to Rome. 
The ostensible purpose of the proposed expedition was 
to prevent the increase of Austrian influence in Italy. 
Under the command of General Oudinot, an army was 
sent to Rome, which, after a campaign of several 
months, succeeded in putting down the new republic 
and in restoring the pope to power. The French army 
finally entered Rome, which was stoutly defended by 
the republican government — freedom was crushed — 
the pope was reinstated. But Pius IX. entered the 
"eternal city" a changed man. The honest zeal in 
behalf of reform which he entertained on his inaugura- 
tion as pope, was transmuted into an embittered and 
determined support of absolutism. The blessings 
which had been showered upon him less than four 
years previous, by a grateful people, were changed to 
execrations. He entered his palace stealthily and at 
night, fearing assassination from the very men who 
so recently would have confronted death in his defense. 

May 31, 1850, the French Assembly, with a lack of 
prudence (|uite incx)mprehensible, adopted a law which; 



PARTIES IN THE ASSEMBLY. 373 

while it weakened their own popularity with the peo- 
ple, greatly increased the strength of the President. 
In a revision of the electoral law, so many restrictions 
were thrown around the right of suffrage that no less 
than three millions of voters were disfranchised. The 
constitutionality of this measure was doubtful, while 
it was manifestly impolitic. 

The question of a revision of the constitution was 
brought before the Assembly early in 1851, in accord- 
ance with a provision of the constitution. It was the 
occasion of some very exciting and stormy debates. 
The plans and wishes of parties were then fully de- 
veloped. The Bonapartists desired an alteration in 
only a single point ; that which rendered the President 
ineligible to a second term at the conclusion of the 
first. The monarchists favored a revision, for they 
hoped to effect an entire abolition of the republican 
constitution, and the establishment of a monarchy — 
one party being eager for the restoration of the elder 
branch of the Bourbons, the other for the elevation of 
the heir of Louis Philippe. The republicans, who con- 
stituted a minority in the Assembly, united in oppos- 
ing a revision. Defective as they felt the constitution 
to be, they feared that republican institutions would be 
endangered by any alteration at that time. The de- 
bates in the Assembly on the subject increased in bit- 
terness and acrimony from day to day, sometimes 
hardly stopping short of personal violence. In July, 
1851, a vote was taken on the question of a revision. 
The whole number of votes cast was 724 ; of these 446 
were in favor of revision, and 278 against it. Three- 
fourths of the votes cast was the number constitutionally 



374 

required to carry the proposition ; so that it failed by 
nearly a hundred votes. By a rule of the Assembly 
the subject could not again be introduced until after 
the expiration of three months. 

Early in November, Louis Napoleon, (who had fa- 
vored a revision of the constitution in the expectation 
that his ineligibility to a re-election would be removed,) 
sent his annual message to the Assembly. It opened 
by proclaiming the continued preservation of peace, 
but expressed the apprehension that this tranquillity 
was in much danger. A vast conspiracy, the Presi- 
dent said, had been organizing throughout Europe, fo? 
the overthrow of existing governments. The approach 
ing election in France, he suggested as the period fixed 
upon for the outbreak of the revolutionary movement. 
He expressed his reliance upon the patriotism of the 
Assembly to save France from these perils. The best 
means of doing this, he urged, was to satisfy the legiti- 
mate wants of the French people, and to put down, on 
their first appearance, all attacks on religion, morality, 
or society. " Well, then, (proceeds the President,) I 
have asked myself whether, in presence of the madness 
of passions, the confusion of doctrines, the division of 
parties — when every thing is leaguing together to de- 
prive justice, morality, and authority of their last 
prestige — whether, I say, we ought to allow the only 
principle to be shaken w^hich, in the midst of the gen- 
eral chaos. Providence has left upstanding as our ral- 
lying point? When universal suffrage has again 
upraised the social edifice, when it has substituted a 
right for a revolutionary act, ought its base to be any 
longer narrowed ? When new powers shall come to 



LOUIS napoleon's message. 375 

preside over the destinies of the country, is it not to 
compromise their stability in advance to leave a pre- 
text for discussing their origin or doubting their legiti- 
macy? E'o doubt on this subject can be entertained ; 
and without for a moment departing from the policy 
of order which I have always pursued, I have seen 
myself, to my deep regret, obliged to separate myself 
from a ministry which possessed my full confidence 
and esteem, to choose another, composed also of hon- 
orable men, known for their conservative opinions, but 
who are willing to admit the necessity of re-establish- 
ing universal suffrage on the largest possible base. In 
consequence, there will be presented to you a bill to 
restore that principle in all its plenitude, in preserving 
such parts of the law of May 31 as free universal suf- 
frage from its impure elements, and render its applica- 
tion more just and more regular." The law of May 
31, he said, disfranchised three millions of electors, 
most of whom were peaceable inhabitants of the coun- 
try. It gave an impetus to the revolutionary spirit by 
denying to the people their just rights. He concluded 
by saying, that, "To restore universal suffrage is to 
deprive civil war of its flag, and the opposition of their 
last argument ; it is to afford to France an opportunity 
of giving herself institutions which will insure her re- 
pose ; it will be to bestow on the powers to come that 
moral repose which exists only when resting on a con- 
secrated principle and an incontestable authority." 

Immediately after the reading ot tne message, one 
of the ministry proposed the repeal of the law re- 
stricting the right of suffrage, and the re-establishment 
of the electoral law of March 15, 1849, by which all 



376 

citizens twentj-one years old, and having resided six 
months in the commune, (or electoral district,) were de- 
clared electors. The minister, on presenting this law, 
demanded its immediate consideration. A warm de- 
bate followed, and the demand was rejected by a large 
majority. The bill was then referred to a committee, 
which reported the succeeding week. The report was 
very explicit against universal suffrage, and closed by 
advising that the bill be rejected at once, without pas- 
sing even to the second reading. This was carried by 
a vote of 355 to 348 — a majority of seven against the 
government. During the debate, one of the friends of 
Louis Napoleon asked, "Is it not probable that the 
disfranchised electors w^ill j)resent themselves at the 
elections in May, 1852, and declare their determina- 
tion to vote ? " This was regarded as an invitation to 
the people to pursue such a course, and created much 
excitement. 

On the 25th of E'ovember, the President made a 
brief but significant speech, on distributing to the 
manufacturers the prizes they had won by the articles 
exhibited at the World's Exhibition. After expressing 
his satisfaction at the proofs of French genius and skill 
which had been afforded at the Exhibition, he pro- 
ceeded to speak of the check upon industry which the 
continued machinations of evil men in France could 
not fail to create. On the one hand France was dis- 
turbed by demagogical ideas, and on the other by 
monarchical hallucinations. The former disseminate 
everywhere error and falsehood. "Disquietude goes 
before them, and deception follows them, while the 
resources employed in repressing them are so much 



y 



y 



THE CRISIS. 377 

loss to the most pressing ameliorations and to the relief 
of misery. The schemes of monarchists impede all 
progress, all serious labor ; for in place of an advance, 
the country is forced to have recourse to a struggle. 
The efforts of both, however, will be in vain." And 
the President exhorted the manufacturers to continue 
their labors. " Undertake them without fear, for they 
will prevent the want of occupation during the winter. 
Do not dread the future ; tranquillity will be main- 
tained, come what may. A government which relies 
for support on the entire mass of the nation, which has 
no other motive of action than the public good, and 
which is animated by that ardent faith which is a sure 
guide even through a space in which there is no path 
traced : that government, I say, will know how to fulfill 
its mission, for it has in it that right which comes from 
the people, and that force which comes from God." 
This speech created a profound sensation, and elicited 
general discussion. The " Constitutionnel," the organ 
of Louis ISTapoleon, added to the excitement by an ar- 
ticle proclaiming the existence of a monarchical con- 
spiracy, and menacing that section of the Assembly 
with instant seizure and imprisonment upon the first 
movement toward the accomplishment of their plans. 
The crisis was fast approaching. A law was pro- 
posed authoi'izing the impeachment of the President in 
case he should seek a re-election in violation of the 
provisions of the constitution. In addition to this 
measure, it was rumored through Paris, that a decree 
of accusation would be brought against Louis Na- 
poleon, charging him with treason, and ordering his 
arrest. This brought on the final struggle between the 



378 

President and the Assembly. He had already mado 
preparations for a couj^ (T etat."^ This he had done 
with the utmost secrecy, no one being in his confi- 
dence, until the hour of putting his plans into execu- 
tion had arrived. In the mean time, he appeared 
perfectly unconcerned, and seemed more deeply en- 
gaged in the gayeties of social life than in political 
intrigues. On the night of Monday, December Is-t, he 
entertained a large party at his palace, and was 
unusually attentive to his guests until a late hour. 

On the morning of the 2d of December, 1851, the 
inhabitants of Paris awoke to find the city occupied 
by troops, and a decree by the President, posted on 
every wall, announcing the dissolution of the N^ational 
Assembly, the restoration of universal sufirage, and 
the establishment of martial law throughout Paris. 
There were also proclamations addressed to the people 
and to the army. The first of these was as follows : 

"APPEAL TO THE PEOPLE. 

" Freintchmen, — The present situation cannot last 
much longer. Each day the condition of the country 
becomes worse. The Assembly, which ought to be the 
firmest supporter of order, has become a theater of 
plots. The patriotism of 300 of its members could not 
arrest its fatal tendencies. In place of making laws 
for the general interest of the people, it was forging 
arms for civil war. It attacked the power I hold di- 
rectly from the people ; it encouraged every evil pas- 
sion ; it endangered the repose of France. I have 
dissolved it, and I make the whole people judge be- 
tween me and it. The constitution, as you know, had 
been made with the object of weakening beforehand 

• A sudden and decisive measure in politics, sometimes, as in tha 
present instance, of an illegal and revolutionary character, and justified 
pn the ground of extreme necessity. 



APPEAL TO THE PEOPLE. 379 

the powers you intrusted to me. Six millions of votes 
were a striking protest against it, and yet I have faith- 
fully observed it. Provocations, calumnies, outrages, 
found me passive. But now that the fundamental part 
is no longer respected by those who incessantly invoke 
it, and the men who have already destroyed two mon- 
archies wish to tie up my hands in order to overthrow 
the republic, my duty is to baffle their perfidious pro- 
jects, to maintain the republic and to save the country 
by appealing to the solemn judgments of the only 
sovereign I recognize in France — the people. 

"I, then, make a loyal appeal to the entire nation ; 
and I say to you, if you wish to continue this state of 
disquietude and maladministration that degrades you 
and endangers the future — choose another person in 
my place, for I no longer wish for a place which is 
powerless for good, but which makes me responsible 
for acts that I cannot hinder, and chains me to the helm 
when I see the vessel rushing into the abyss ! If, on 
the contrary, you have still confidence in me, give me 
the means of accomplishing the grand mission I hold 
from you. That mission consists in closing the era of 
revolution, in satisfying the legitimate wants of the 
people, and in protecting them against subversive pas- 
sions. It consists, especially, in creating institutions 
w^hich survive men, and which are the foundation ou 
which something durable is based." 

"Persuaded," said the President, in another procla- 
mation, " that the instability of the government and the 
preponderance of a single Assembly, are permanent 
causes of trouble and disorder, I submit to your suf- 
frages the following fundamental basis of a constitu- 
tion which assemblies will develop afterward : — 1. A 
responsible head, named for ten years. 2. Ministers 
dependent on the executive power alone. 3. A council 
of state, formed of the most eminent men, prepar- 
ing the laws and supporting the discussion of them 
before the legislative body. 4. A legislative body 



380 THE COUP d'etat, 

discussing and voting laws, named by universal sufl -ge 
5. A second Assembly, formed of all the illustrio; s of 
the country, a preponderating power, guardian oi the 
fundamental compact and of public liberties. The 
system created by the First Consul at the commence- 
ment of the century has already given to France i epose 
and prosperity ; and it would again guarantee tl am to 
it. Such is my profound conviction. If you sh ^re in 
it, declare it by your suffrages. If, on the co'. £rary, 
you prefer a government with strength, monarch ^al or 
republican, borrowed from I know not what pi^t, or 
from some chimerical future, reply negatively. Thus, 
then, for the first time since 1804, you w^ill vote with 
a knowledge of what you are doing, in knowing well 
for whom and for what. If I do not obtain the ma- 
jority of your suffrages, I will then call for the meeting 
of a new Assembly, and I will give up the charge 
which I have received from you. But if you. believe 
that the cause of which my name is the symbol — that 
is to say, France regenerated by the Revolution of '89, 
and organized by the Emperor — is still your own, pro- 
claim it by consecrating the powers which I ask from 
you. Then France and Europe will be preserved from 
anarchy, obstacles will be removed, rivalries will have 
disappeared, for all will respect, in the decision of the 
people, the decree of Providence. — Given at the palace 
of the Elysees, this second day of December, 1851." 

The events of the preceding night gradually became 
known to the astonished citizens of Paris. At an 
early hour in the morning, many of the leading mem- 
bers of the Assembly had been arrested and sent to 
prison. The President's proclamations, which had 



381 

been privately printed, were posted on the walls. 
About 130,000 troops — those on whom Louis J^apo- 
leon could implicitlj rely — had been silently con- 
centrated near Paris, and now occupied positions 
which commanded almost the entire city. So secretly 
had the measures of the usurper been concerted and 
carried into execution, that his purposes were scarcely 
suspected — and every thing had been so admirably 
arranged, every contingency had been provided for 
with such consummate ability, that none of the plans 
of Louis J^apoleon failed. So quietly were all things 
accomplished, that the people of Paris were utterly 
ignorant of what was going on. They awoke to find 
the chief members of the JSTational Assembly in prison, 
and Louis Napoleon absolute dictator of France. Not 
a man was left of sufficient ability and popularity to 
rally the people against this sudden and extraordinary 
usurpation. 

The official account of the arrest of some of the 
principal persons whose influence was feared by Louis 
Napoleon, is highly interesting, as it brings out some 
of their most striking points of character. The details 
generally are supposed to be quite accurate. The per- 
son whose arrest was deemed most important of all 
to the President, was General Changarnier, who pos- 
sessed, in an eminent degree, the confidence and 
affection of the army. The afiair was intrusted to 
a commissary of police in whom Louis Napoleon had 
implicit confidence. This officer and his followers 
forcibly entered the house where the general resided, 
and repaired to his bed-room. As the door was burst 
open, the general was seen standing with a loaded 



382 THE COUP d'etat. 

pistol ill each hand ; the commissary seized hold of his 
arms, and struck down his weapons, saying, " What 
are you about, general ? Your life is in no danger ; 
wherefore defend it?" The general remained calm, 
surrendered his pistols, and said, "I am at your 
orders ; I am going to dress myself." The general 
was dressed by his servant, and observed to the com- 
missary, " I know M. de Maupas to be a gentleman ; 
have the kindness to tell him that I trust to his cour- 
tesy not to deprive me of my domestic, whose services 
are indispensable to me." This request was at once 
acceded to. During the journey, and while in the 
carriage, General Changarnier discoursed of the events 
of the day. " The President's re-election," said he, 
" was certain ; there was no necessity for him to have 
recourse to a coup d \dat y he is giving himself much 
needless trouble." And he subsequently added, "When 
the President embarks in a foreign war, he will be glad 
to seek me out, and intrust me with the command of 
an army." 

The arrest of General Cavaignac was also peaceably 
effected. The commissary rung at the door of his 
apartment, and inquired for the general. At first a 
female voice replied, " He is not within." A moment 
afterward the commissary rung again ; and a man's 
voice inquired, "Who's there?" "Commissary of 
police ! Open in the name of the law." " 1 shall not 
open ! " " Then, general, I shall force the door." The 
general then opened it himself The commissary said 
to him, " General, you are my prisoner ! Resistance 
is useless ; I have taken all due measures. I have 
b§en ordered to make sure of jour person bj virtu(j 



THE ARRESTS. 383 

of a warrant which I will read to jou." "It is need- 
less ! " The general showed signs of exasperation. 
He smote on a marble table, and used violent ex- 
pressions. On the commissary trying to calm him, 
the general eyed him steadily, and said, " What do 
you mean by arresting me? Give me your names." 
" "We will not conceal them from you, general ; but 
this is not the time. You must dress yourself, and 
follow us." The general became tranquil, and said, 
" Yery well, sir, I am ready to follow you ; only give 
me time to dress ; send out your people." He asked 
permission to write, and leave was given him to do so. 
When the general was ready, he said to the commis- 
sary, "1 have only one favor to ask you — it is, to 
allow me to go to my place of destination with you 
only." The commissary consented. Durini^ the jour- 
ney, the general was much engaged in thought, and he 
only spoke once. " Am I the only one arrested ? " 
"General, I am not called on to reply to that question." 
"Where are you taking me to ! " "To the Mazas 
prison." 

General Lamoriciere was also taken by surprise 
He first took the police ofiicer for a thief, but being 
assured of the nature of the visitation, he submitted. 
The officer said to him — "General, I have received 
orders from the prefect of police to treat you with all 
l)Ossible deference. I am, accordingly^, desirous to 
show you every attention in my power ; and if you 
will but give me your word of honor that you will 
make no attempt to escape, I shall consider it my duty 
to place you in a private carriage, with none but my- 
gelf to keep watch upon you." " I give you nothing, J 



384 

answer for nothing. Deal with me as yoii will." He 
was thereupon conducted to a hacknej-coach, with an 
escort of police. As they reached the post of the 
legion of honor, the general put his head out of the 
window and attempted to harangue the troops. The 
commissary did not give him time to utter a single 
word, but intimated to him that he should feel himself 
called upon to resort to rigorous measures did he repeat 
his attempt. The general answered, "Act as you 
please." On his arrival at the Mazas prison, the gen- 
eral displayed more calmness. He requested the com- 
missary not to seize his valuable weapons, and to send 
him some cigars and the history of the French Revolu- 
tion. The commissary complied with his request. 
' General Leflo took matters less coolly. He said to 
the commissary, " ISTapoleon wishes to make a coup d ' 
etat! We'll shoot him at Yincennes. As for you, 
we'll shoot you along with him." The commissary 
replied that resistance was out of the question ; that 
a state of siege was the order of the day, and that he 
knew full w^ell the consequences of such a crisis. 

Colonel Chanas, another of those chosen as the first 
victims of the President's power, because they were most 
feared by him, at first refused admission to the com- 
missary selected to arrest him, but seeing that his door 
was about to be beaten down, he exclaimed, " Hold ! 
I'll open." The commissary told him of the warrant 
against him. The colonel said, "I foresaw it right 
well ; I expected as much. Escape was easy, but I 
would not quit my post. I thought that this would 
have taken place two days earlier, and thinking so I 
bp.d loaded my pistol ; but I have withdrawn the 



THE AERESTS. 886 

ctarge:" and he pointed to a double-barreled pistol 
which lay on a piece of furniture. The commissarj at 
once took possession of it. "Had jou come on that 
day, (said the colonel,) I would have blown your brains 
out." He entered the carriage without offering the 
slightest resistance. During the journey he requested 
to know whither he was being conducted. As the 
commissary hesitated in his reply, he said, "Are you 
taking me to be shot?" He was informed that his 
destination was the Mazas prison. 

Thiers, always so watchful where his own interests 
are concerned, was found in his bed, fast asleep. The 
commissary drew aside the curtains of crimson damask, 
with white muslin lining, woke up Thiers, and in- 
formed him of his calling and commission. Thiers 
started up in bed, raised his hand to his eyes, over 
which a white cotton cap was drawn, and said, " What 
is the matter?" "I am about to search your apart- 
ments ; but compose yourself, no harm will be done to 
you, your life is in no danger." This last assurance 
appeared very necessary, inasmuch as Thiers exhibited 
great consternation. "But what mean you to do? 
Do you know that I am a representative?" "Yes, but 
I cannot discuss the point \vith you, I am merely to 
obey orders." "But what you are now doing may cost 
you your head." " ]S"othing shall hinder me from ac- 
complishing my duty " " But you are making a coujp 
iV etatf " " I cannot answer your arguments, but have 
the kindness to rise." " Do you know whether I am 
the only one in this present predicament? — are my 
colleagues similarly treated ? " "I do not know, sir.'- 

Thiers rose and slowly dressed himself, rejecting the 

25 



SB 6 tUti COtJP D^ETAf. 

assistance of the agents. Suddenly he said to tlio 
commissary, "Supposing, sir, that I were to blow your 
brains out?" "I believe you incapable of such an act, 
Monsieur Thiers ; but at all events I have taken every 
precaution ; I am at no loss for the means to prevent 
the execution of your threat." "But do you know 
what law is? Are you aware that you are violating the 
constitution?" "I have received no instructions to 
hold an argument with you ; besides, you are by far 
my superior in intellect. All I have to do is to act in 
obedience to my orders, as I should have acted in obe- 
dience to yours when you were minister for the home 
department." The search made in Thiers' study led to 
the discovery of no political correspondence. Upon 
the commissary expressing his surprise at this circum- 
stance, Thiers replied that he had for some consid- 
erable period been in the habit of forwarding his 
political correspondence to England, and that nothing 
would be found on his premises. The versatile states- 
man, after a brief detention, was hurried out of the 
country, instead of being sent to prison with his 
companions. 

When the members of the National Assembly 
learned that many of their colleagues had been ar- 
rested, they hurried to the halls of legislation. These 
they found surrounded by troops who obstructed their 
entrance. They then withdrew to another part of the 
city, where, to the number of three hundred, they 
organized the Assembly, and adopted the following 
decree with almost entire unanimity : 

"In pursuance of article 68 of the constitution, viz: 
^'The President of the republic, the ministers, the 



DECREE OF THfe KATIONAL ASSEMBLY. 38? 

Agents, and depositaries of public authority, are re- 
sponsible, each in what concerns themselves respec- 
tively, for all the acts of the government and the 
administration. Any measure by which the President 
of the republic dissolves the J^atioual Assembly, pro- 
rogues it, or places obstacles in the exercise of its 
powers, is a crime of high treason. By this act merely, 
the President is deprived of all authority, the citizens 
are bound to withhold their obedience, the executive 
power passes in full right to the National Assembly. 
The judges of the high court of justice will meet imme- 
diately, under pain of forfeiture ; th^y will convoke 
the juries in the place which they will select, to pro- 
ceed to the judgment of the President and his' accom- 
plices ; they will nominate the magistrates charged to 
fulfill the duties of public ministers ; ' — 

"And seeing that the National Assembly is pre- 
vented by violence from exercising its powers, it 
decrees as follows, viz. : 

"Louis Napoleon Bonaparte is deprived of all au- 
thority as President of the Eepublic. The citizens are 
enjoined to withhold their obedience. The executive 
power has passed in full right to the National Assem- 
bly. The judges of the high court of justice are en- 
joined to meet immediately under pain of forfeiture, 
to proceed to the judgment of the President and his 
accomplices ; consequently, all the officers and func- 
tionaries of power and of public authority are bound 
to obey all requisitions made in the name of the Na- 
tional Assembly, under pain of forfeiture and of high 
treason. — Done and decreed unanimously in public 
sitting, this 2d of December, 1851. " 

This decree received the signature of three hundred 
members of the Assembly. Another was adopted, ap- 
pointing General Oudinot commander of the public 
forces. These decrees had scarcely been signed by all 
the members present, and deposited in a place of 
safety, when a band of soldiers, headed by their offi- 
oers, sword in hand, appeared at the door, without, 



38S ^flE COUP d'etat. 

however, daring to enter the apartment. The Assetd 
biy awaited them in perfect silence. The president 
alone raised his voice, read the decrees which had just 
been passed, to the soldiers, and ordered them to retire. 
They hesitated. The officers, pale and undecided, de- 
clared they would go for further orders. They retired, 
contenting themselves with blockading the passages 
leading to the apartment. The Assembly, not being 
able to go out, ordered the windows to be opened, and 
caused the decrees to be read to the people and the 
troops in the street below, especially that decree which, 
in pursuance of the 68th article of the constitution, 
pronounced the deposition and rmpeachment of Louis 
ISTapoleon. Soon, however, the soldiers re-appeared at 
the door, preceded this time by two police officers. 
These men, amid the unbroken silence of the Assem- 
bly, summoned the representatives to disperse. The 
president ordered the officers to retire. One was agi- 
tated, and faltered ; the other broke out in invectives. 
The president said to him, "Sir, w^e are here the law- 
ful authority, and sole representatives of law and of 
right. We will not disperse. Seize us, and convey ua 
to prison." " All, all ! " exclaimed the members of the 
Assembly. After much hesitation, the police officers 
caused the two presidents to be seized by the collar. 
The whole body then rose, and arm-in-arm, two-and- 
two, they followed the presidents, and all were marched 
off through the streets, to the various prisons, without 
knowing whither they were going. 

When the Assembly was thus destroyed, measures 
were taken to disarm the power of the press. All the 
offices of the journals were occupied by the military, 



Merioades. ^89 

and none of the journals, except the government or 
gans, were allowed to appear. During the whole of 
this day the people remained quiet and apparently in- 
different, and there was so little alarm that even the 
jewelers' shops remained open as usual. 

On the following morning, Wednesday, the 3d, a 
decree was promulgated regulating the proposed elec- 
tion. It convoked the people in their districts, for the 
14th of the month, to reject or accept the following 
declaration: — "The French people wills the mainte- 
nance of the authority of Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, 
and delegates to him the powers necessary to frame a 
constitution on the basis proposed in his proclamation 
of the 2d December." All Frenchmen aged twenty 
one, and enjoying their civil rights, were called on to 
vote. The period of voting to be the eight days end- 
ing on the 21st of December. The minister of war 
addressed a circular to the generals of the army and 
the chiefs of corps, ordering that the soldiers were to 
vote for the election of a president within forty-eight 
hours from the receipt of the circular. A provisional 
consultative commission, in lieu of the abolished 
council of state, was appointed, embracing eighty 
distinguished members of the late National Assembly. 

The tranquillity which had hitherto prevailed was 
first interrupted on this day. A member of the late 
Assembly, M. Baudin, appeared on horseback in the 
Kue St. Antoine, followed by several other members, 
and endeavored to excite the workmen to rise. He 
succeeded in getting together a small body, who 
threw up two slight barricades. Troops were instantly 
marched against them, and, after a brief skirmish, the 



§00 TfiE COTIP D^ETAT. 

barricades were taken, Baiidin and another representa« 
tive being killed on the spot, and several of their fol- 
lowers wounded. Decrees were immediately put forth 
bj the chief of police and the minister of war, declar- 
ing that every person taken in the act of erecting or 
defending a barricade, or bearing arms, should suffer 
according to the most rigorous laws of war. Groups 
were to be dispersed by the armed force and without 
previous notice ; and the circulation of public carriages 
was prohibited. During Wednesday night, several 
representatives passed through the streets, attempting 
to address the people; but they were everywhere pre- 
vented. The body of one of the representatives, shot 
at the barricade in the Rue St. Antoine, was put on a 
litter and carried through several streets. As it passed 
along, causing great excitement in its course, the bear- 
ers were met by troops, and turned into a by-street. 
Here there was such resistance that the troops charged, 
and fired ; and two of the men carrying the corpse 
were killed. Proclamations signed by various persons, 
calling on the people to fight and offering to lead them, 
were posted in a multitude of places, but were speedily 
observed and removed. 

Thursday, the 4:th, opened gloomily. From an early 
hour of the morning, the people were astir, and tem- 
porary barricades were thrown up here and there, but 
abandoned on the appearance of the troops, whom it 
appeared to be the wish of the populace to harass. 
The alarm began to spread, and the shops in the neigh- 
borhood of the disturbed quarters remained closed. 
Barricades of a more formidable character were thrown 
up — amounting in all to more than a hundred — before 



information could be forwarded to the troops. Before 
twelve o'clock the aspect of affairs became so serious 
that all the small posts of soldiers were withdrawn, to 
prevent their being surprised and disarmed bj the 
people, and shortly afterward three or lour regiments 
of cavalry and as many of infantry, with six battalions 
jf artillery, were marched upon the disaffected quar- 
ters, and fierce and determined conflicts commenced 
at the barricades. Charges by large bodies of lancers 
were made every five minutes, to clear the principal 
streets. 'No quarter was given by the soldiers, who 
shot all that resisted them. 

Before two o'clock there were 30,000 troops in the 
streets, and the most peremptory orders were issued 
by the oflScers, that the windows of the houses should 
be kept closed, and that no persons should show them- 
selves in the balconies or they would be fired at. Yol- 
leys were fired at windows, and many persons were 
killed. In the middle of the day a formidable attempt 
was made by the people, moving from different quar- 
ters, to get possession of the bank and the post-office ; 
but the large force stationed near these having de- 
ployed into line, the populace, after firing a few vol- 
leys, retreated. During the greater part of the day the 
bank was partially blockaded, as by some accident the 
communication with the main body of the troops was 
Qot kept up, and the one hundred and fifty soldiers 
stationed there were without provisions, the barricades 
erected in the neighborhood cutting ofi" their communi- 
cation and supplies. At four o'clock, however, the 
barricades were carried, and the garrison relieved. At 
eight o'clock in the evening, tranquillity had been 



S9S fSE COtrP D^ETAf. 

restored, the fighting had ceased on all sides, tha 
populace appeared to have been completely dis- 
heartened by their want of success, and the harassed 
troops were permitted to repose after their bloody 
victory. 

From the departments, meantime, came news of 
resistance. In the frontier districts of the south-east 
particularly — the whole valley of the Khone, in fact 
the whole region from Joigny to Lyons, including 
several departments, the rural population rose in great 
strength against the usurpation. There was very hard 
fighting in the Nievre, in the Herault, and in the fron- 
tier districts of the Sardinian and Swiss Alps ; and in 
many places the contest was distinguished by atroci- 
ties. In the course of two or three days, however, all 
resistance was quelled. 

Preparations were made for the election. The army 
voted first, and of course its vote was nearly unani- 
mous in favor of Louis iN'apoleon. The popular elec- 
tion was to take place on Saturday and Sunday, the 
20th and 21st of December. The simple question sub- 
mitted was, whether Louis ITapoleon should remain at 
the head of the state ten years, or not. 'No other can- 
didate was allowed to be named. The official returns 
show T,439,219 votes in his favor, and 640,737 against 
him. On New Year's day, the issue of the election was 
celebrated with more than royal magnificence. Can- 
non were fired in the morning — seventy discharges in 
all, ten for each million of votes recorded in his favor; 
and at noon the President went to 1^6 tre Dame, the 
principal church of Paris, where the event was cele- 
brated with the most gorgeous and dazzling pomp. 



THE INAUGUKATION. 3^3 

The scene was theatrical and imposing. All Paris was 
covered with troops, and the day was one of universal 
observance. From 1^6tre Dame, Louis E'apoleon re- 
turned to the Tuileries, where the reception of the 
authorities took place, and a banquet was given at 
which four hundred persons sat down. The day be- 
fore, he had received the formal announcement by the 
consultative commission of the result of the election. 
M. Baroche, the president of the commission, in an- 
nouncing it, said that, "France confided in his courage, 
his elevated good-sense, and his love ; no government 
ever rested on a basis more extensive, or had an origin 
more legitimate and worthy of the respect of nations." 
In reply, Louis Napoleon said that France had com- 
prehended that he departed from legality only to re- 
turn to right: that she had absolved him, by justifying 
an act which had no other object than to save France, 
and perhaps Europe, from years of trouble and anar- 
chy : that he felt all the grandeur of his new mission, 
and did not deceive himself as to its difficulties. He 
hoped to secure the destinies of France, by founding 
institutions which respond at the same time th the 
democratic instincts of the nation, and to the desire 
to have, henceforth, a strong and respected government. 
On the 14:th of January the new constitution was 
decreed. In the proclamation accompanying it, the 
President said that, not having the vanity to substitute 
a personal theory for the experience of centuries, he 
Bought in the past for examples that might best be fol- 
lowed; and he said to himself, "Since France has made 
progress during the last fifty years, in virtue alone of 
the administrative, military, judicial, religious, and 



394 

financial organization of the Consulate and the Em- 
pire, why should not we also adopt the political insti- 
tutions of that epoch ? " After sketching the condition 
of the various interests of France, for the purpose of 
showing that it had been created by the administra- 
tion of the Emperor, Louis Napoleon declared the 
principal features of the constitution established bj 
the Emperor had been adopted, as the foundation of 
the new constitution which he submitted to the people. 
The constitution consists of seven sections. The gov- 
ernment is intrusted to Louis Napoleon, actual Presi- 
dent of the Eepublic, for ten years : he governs by 
means of the ministers, the council of state, the sen- 
ate, and the legislative body. He is responsible to the 
French people, to whom he has the right always to 
appeal. He is chief of the state, commands the land 
and sea forces, declares war, concludes treaties, and 
makes rules and decrees for the execution of the laws. 
He alone has the initiative of the laws, and the right 
to pardon. He has the right to declare the state of 
siege in one or several departments, referring to the 
senate with the least possible delay. The ministers 
depend solely on him, and each is responsible only so 
far as the acts of the government regard him. All the 
officers of the government, military and civil, high and 
low, swear obedience to the constitution and fidelity to 
the President. Should the President die before the 
expiration of his office, the senate convokes the na- 
tion to make a new election — ^-the President having the 
right, by secret will, to designate the citizen whom he 
recommends. Until the election of a new President, 
the president of the seriate will j^« vern. The number 



THE NEW CONSTITUTION. 895 

of senators is fixed at eighty for the first year, and can- 
not exceed one hundred and fifty. The senate is com- 
posed of cardinals, marshals, admirals, and of the 
citizens whom the President may name. The senators 
are not removable, and are for life. Their services are 
gratuitous, but the President may give them $6000 
annually, if he sees fit. The ofiicers of the senate are 
to be elected on nomination of the President of the 
Eepublic, and are to hold for one year. The senate is 
to be convoked and prorogued by the President, and 
its sittings are to be secret. It is the guard i u of the 
fundamental law and of the public liberties : no law 
can be published without being submitted to it. It 
regulates the constitution of the colonies, and all that 
has not been provided for by the constitution, and de- 
cides upon its interpretation — but its decisions are 
invalid without the sanction of the President. It 
maintains or annuls all acts complained of as uncon- 
stitutional by the government or by petition. It can 
fix the bases of projects of laws of national interest, 
in reports to the President ; and can also propose 
modifications of the constitution ; but all modifications 
of the fundamental bases of the constitution must be 
submitted to the people. In the legislative body there 
is to be one representative for every 35,000 electors — 
t^iicted by universal suffi-age. The deputies receive no 
salary, and hold ofiice for six years. The legislative 
body discusses and votes the projects of laws and the 
imposts. Every amendment adopted by tlie committee 
charged w\\h the examination of a project of law, shall 
I e sent, without discussion, to the council of state, and 
if not adopted bv tliat body, it cannot be submitted Xq 



396 THE COUP d'etat. 

legislative deliberation. The sittings are to be public, 
but may be secret on the demand of five members. 
Public reports oi the proceedings shall be confined to 
the journals and votes — and shall be prepared under 
direction of the president of the legislative body. The 
officers are to be named by the President of the Re- 
public. Ministers cannot be members of the legisla- 
ture. "No petition can be addressed to the legislative 
body. The President of the Eepublic convokes, ad- 
journs, prorogues, and dissolves the legislative body : 
in case of dissolution, he shall convoke a new one 
within six months. The number of councilors of state 
is from forty to fifty. They are to be named by the 
President and are removable by him. He presides 
over their meetings. They are to draw up projects of 
law and regulations of the public administration, and 
to resolve difficulties that may arise, under the direc- 
tion of the President. Members are to be appointed 
from its number by the President, to maintain, in the 
name of the government, the discussion of the projects 
of law before the senate and the legislative corps. 
The salary of each councilor is $5000. The ministers 
have ranks, right of sitting, and a deliberative voice in 
the council of state. A hign court of justice judges 
without aj)peal all persons sent before it accused of 
crimes, attempts or plots against the President of the 
Republic, and against the internal and external safety 
of the state. It cannot be convened except by decree 
from the President. Its organization is to be regu- 
lated by the senate. Existing provisions of law not 
opposed to the present constitution shall remain in 
force until legally abrogated. Such are the provisions 
of the liow constitution of Franc^r 



UBEETY OF THE PRESS STOPPED. 397 

From the first, Louis I^Tapoleon exercised the power 
which he had seized, in the most arbitrary manner. 
Arrests of disaffected persons were made in all parts of 
France, and in the course of a few weeks, several thou- 
sands of persons were sent into temporary banishment, 
and twenty-five hundred were directed to be sent to 
the penal colony of Cayenne, on the coast of South 
America. These acts of high-handed severity created 
a deep feeling of disapprobation, to which, however, 
it was unsafe to give expression, either in print or in 
conversation. 

Among the numerous decrees of Louis ITapoleon to 
restrain the liberties of the people and establish his 
own authority, was one for the regulation of the press, 
which destroys every semblance of freedom of the 
press, and makes it a mere subservient tool in the 
hands of the government. It consists of four chapters, 
and the following are their provisions : (1.) No journal 
can be published without first obtaining permission of 
the government ; nor can any foreign journal be ad- 
mitted into France except by the same permission ; 
and any person bringing into France an unauthorized 
paper, will be liable to a year's imprisonment and to a 
fine of $1000. Every publisher must deposit caution- 
money, from $3000 to $10,000, before he can issue a 
paper, under heavy penalties. (2.) Stamp duties are 
imposed upon journals whether published in France, 
or introduced from other countries ; and the authori- 
ties are enjoined to seize all publications violating these 
regulations. (3.) Every violation of the article of the 
constitution which prohibits legislative reports, is pun- 
ishable by fine of from $200 to $1000. The publication 



398 

of false news subjects to a fine, and if it be of a ten- 
dency to disturb the public peace, imprisonment ia 
added. 'No account of the proceedings of the senate or 
council of state, and no report of trials for press of- 
fenses, can be published ; and in all affairs, civil, cor- 
rectional, or criminal, the courts may forbid the publi- 
cation of their proceedings. Every editor is bound to 
publish official documents, relations, and rectifications 
which may be addressed to him by any public au- 
thority ; if he fail to do so, he may be fined and his 
journal seized. No one can carry on the bookseller's 
trade, or issue or sell engravings, medals, or prints of 
any kind, without obtaining permission of the authori- 
ties, and becoming subject to the same restrictions as 
are imposed upon journals. (4.) With regard to exist- 
ing journals, three months are allowed for them to de- 
posit the caution-money required, and to conform to 
the other provisions of the new law. 

The promulgation of a decree in regard to the pro- 
perty of Louis Philippe and his family, created much 
dissatisfaction, especially among the royalists. It de- 
clares that the Orleans family, their husbands, wives 
and descendants, cannot possess any real or personal 
property in France, and directs the whole of their pre- 
sent possessions to be sold within one year. The im- 
mense property possessed by Louis Philippe when he 
ascended the throne, and given by him to his children 
at that time, was declared to be confiscated. Of the 
proceeds of its sale, $2,000,000 is to be allowed to the 
mutual assistance societies organized among the peo 
pie ; $2,000,000 will be devoted to the establishment of 
institutions for making loans on mortgages; $2,000,000 



THE PKESIDENT S SPEECH. 899 

is to be used as a pension fund for the poorest of the 
clergy ; and the remainder is to be distributed in pen- 
sions to military functionaries. In this decree a con- 
siderable sura was directed to be paid annually to the 
Duchess of Orleans. That spirited lady addressed to 
Louis ISTapoleon an indignant protest against the de- 
cree. She said — "As I do not acknowledge your 
right to plunder my family, neither do I acknowledge 
your right to assign to me a dotation in the name of 
France. I refuse the dowry." 

The opening of the new senate and legislative body 
took place on the 20th of ]\farch, 1852 In his speech 
on that occasion, the President brieliy rehearses the 
reasons which made his usurpation necessary, and 
cited the readiness with which the people submitted to 
a temporary abridgment of their liberties, as proof of 
their conviction that they had been abused. He said, 
•with regard to the rumors that he intends to make 
himself Emperor, that he had had the opportunity to 
do so on three occasions if he had been so disposed, 
and he referred to his forbearance then, as evidence of 
the falsehood of the reports. He declared that he was 
firmly resolved to maintain the government in its pre- 
sent form, unless the machinations of the disaffected 
should compel him to proclaim greater powers. He 
repeated his assurances of peace, and declared that he 
would restore popular freedom and rights as rapidly 
as the security of the country would permit. 

On the 21st of March, Louis Napoleon reviewed the 
troops, and bestowed upon them the medal instituted 
by the confiscation of the Orleans estates. In the 
speech which he made on the occasion, he said, his 



object in instituting the medal was to make cjome moru 
adequate compensation for the services of the army 
tnan they usually received. He urged them to accept 
h as an encouragement to maintain intact their mili- 
tary spirit. '' Wear it, (he said,) as a proof of my so- 
licitude for your interest, and my affection for that 
great military family, of which I am proud to be the 
head, because you are its glorious children." 

On the evening of April 4:th, the highest judicial 
authorities of the state attended at the Elysee to take 
the oaths prescribed by the constitution in presence of 
Louis Napoleon, who received them surrounded by his 
ministers. A complimentary speech was made to him 
on behalf of the judges. In his rej)ly the President 
used strong expressions concerning the basis of his 
right to the office he holds. He said : "Since the day 
on which the doctrine of the sovereignty of the people 
replaced that of divine right, it may be affirmed with 
truth, that no government has been as legitimate as 
mine. In 1804, four millions of votes, in proclaiming 
the power to be hereditary in my family, designated 
me as heir to the empire. In 1848, nearly six millions 
called me to the head of the republic. In 1851 nearly 
eight millions maintained me there. Consequently, in 
taking the oath to me, it is not merely to a man that 
ycu swear to be faithful, but to a princij^le — to a 
caase — to the national will itself" These expressions 
have been generally considered as indicative of hered- 
itaiy imperial pretensions, to be made good at the 
earliest convenient opportunity. 

"With but few exceptions, the prominent citizens of 
France universally acknowledged the authority of 



GENEEAL CHANG ARNIEE. 401 

Louie Kapoleon, and took the oath of fidelity which 
had been prescribed by him. Among the dissentients 
was General Changarnier, who addressed a remark- 
able letter to the minister of the Interior in reply tc 
his demand that he should take the oath of allegiance 
to Louis JN apoleon. He says that the President had 
repeatedly endeavored to seduce him to his supj)ort — 
that he had offered not only to make him marshal but 
to confer uj^on him another military dignity unknown 
since the empire, and to attach to it immense pecuni- 
ary rewards; that when he perceived that personal 
ambition had no effect upon him, he endeavored to 
gain him over, by pretending a design to prepare the 
way for the restoration of the monarchy to which he 
supposed him to be attached. All these attempts had 
been without effect. He had never ceased to be ready 
to defend with energy the legal powers of Louis Na- 
poleon, and to give every opposition to the illegal 
prolongation of those jjowers. The exile he had un- 
dergone in solitude and silence had not changed his 
opinion of the duties he owed to France. He would 
hasten to her defense should she be attacked, but he 
refused the oath exacted by the perjured man who had 
failed to corrupt him. In reply to this letter, the edi- 
tor of the " Constitutionnel," the official organ of the 
government, brought against General Changarnier spe- 
cific charges — that in March, 1849, he demanded from 
Louis E'apoleon written authority to throw the constit- 
uent Assembly out of the window — that he subse- 
quently urged him in the strongest manner to make a 
coup cV etat ; and that in November, 1850, he assem- 
bled :i number of political personages, and proposed to 



4:02 

them to arrest Louis Napoleon and send him to 
prison, to prorogue the Assembly, and to assume the 
dictatorship. General Lamoriciere, also, in a pub- 
lished letter, refused to take the oath required; he 
declared his readiness to defend France against foreign 
foes whenever she should be attacked, but he would 
not take the oath of fidelity to a perjured chief. The 
venerable astronomer, Arago, also refused to take 
the oath of allegiance required of all connected in any 
way with the government. He wrote a firm and dig- 
nified letter to the minister notifying him of his pur- 
pose, and calling on him to designate th© day when'it 
would be necessary for him to quit the bureau of astron- 
omy, with which he had been so closely connected for 
half a century. He also informed him that he should 
address a circular letter to scientific men throughout 
the world, explaining the necessity which drove him 
from an establishment with which his name had been 
so long associated, and to vindicate his motives from 
suspicion. The minister informed him that, in consid- 
eration of his eminent services to the cause of science, 
the government had decided not to exact the oath, and 
that he could therefore retain his post. These exam- 
ples of non-concurrence in the new policy of the Presi- 
dent were followed by inferior magistrates in various 
parts of France. In several of the departments, mem- 
bers of the local councils had refused to take the oaths 
of allegiance. The civil courts of Paris had, also, in 
one or two instances, asserted their independence by 
deciding against the government in prosecutions com- 
menced against the press. On the 23d of April, more- 
over, the civil tribunal gave judgment on the demand 



THE PEESIDENT AND THE ASSEMBLY. 403 

made by the princes of the Orleans family to declare 
illegal the seizure of the estates of JSTeuilly and Mon- 
ceanx, under the decree of the 22d of January, rela- 
tive to the property of the late king, Louis Philippe. 
In answer to this demand, the government called on 
the tribunal to declare that the decree of 22d January 
was a legislative act, and the seizure of the prop- 
erty an administrative act, and that consequently the 
tribunal had no jurisdiction. 

The session of the legislative body was closed on the 
28th of June by a message from the President, in which 
he thanked the members for their cooperation and 
support, and especially for having "occupied them- 
selves with the great interests of the country, laying 
aside all susceptibility, and feeling that the epoch of 
sterile and impassioned discourses had passed away, 
and that of business had arrived." He hoped that 
they would extend throughout the country the senti- 
ment, of which from their own observation they must 
be possessed, " that there exists in France a government 
animated with the faith and the love of good — which 
reposes on the people, the source of all power — on 
the army, the source of all force — and on religion, 
the source of all justice." During the latter part of 
the session, the budget was discussed with some interest 
and -with some attempts at freedom of debate ; but 
ministers gave out such threatening intimations, that 
the assembly were made to feel that they possessed but 
the name of legislative authority. The opposition 
members drew up a strong report, reviewing in a criti- 
cal manner the events of the session, and expressing an 
emphatic condemnation of the policy of the President ; 



4:04: 

but as the paper could not be priuted, it was widely 
circulated in manuscript. 

The Bession of the senate was closed by decree on 
the 5th of July. The severity of the restraints upon 
the press was carried to such an extreme, that the 
Paris correspondents of three of the London journals 
were summoned to the department of police, and 
were assured that in future they would be held per- 
sonally responsible, not only for the contents of their 
own letters, but for whatever the i^apers with which 
they were connected might say, in leading articles or 
otherwise, concerning French affairs. 

On the ITth of July the President left Paris, to 
celebrate the opening of the railway between Paris 
and Strasbourg. At the latter city he was received 
with every demonstration of respect, coming now as a 
sovereign, and not as an adventurous pretender to the 
throne. All the ceremonies were on the most extensive 
scale. During his stay at Strasbourg he crossed the 
Rhine, and went to Baden-Baden, his object being, 
according to rumor at the time, to seek an interview 
with the Princess Caroline Stephanie de Yasa, grand- 
daughter of the Duchess of Baden, to whose hand it 
was supposed he aspired. Another rumor was that 
the lady, with whom the President was desirous of an 
alliance, was another Baden princess, and a grand- 
daughter of Eugene Beauharnais.* 

• In connection with these rumors, we give a fact of previous 
occurrence : 

"When the late J. Fenimore Cooper was residing at Paris in 1833, his 
republican sympathies as "well as personal friendship for Gonprr^l 
Lafayette, led to a familiar and confidential intercourse between tJieu) 



PROPOSALS OF MAERIAQE. 4:05 

On his return the President was honored with a 
grand military display, and an apparently cordial 
welcome by the Parisians. A change was now made 
in his ministry, and his household was arranged on 
quite an imperial footing, a grand marshal of the pal- 
ace, a grand master of ceremonies, a grand equerry-, 
and officers of like character, being appointed. New 
titles of nobility were also conferred, higher titles were 
applied in the government papers to the President 
himself, all indicating a preparation for the empire. 
The 15th of August, the birthday of Napoleon, was 
signalized by fetes of extraordinary magnitude and 
splendor. The scenes were skillfully adapted to recall 
the memory and glory of Napoleon. The citizens, 

On one occasion, when calling on Lafayette, Mr. Cooper was received 
by the servant with an unusual appearance of caution. He found the 
general alone, who inquired whether he met an acquaintance in the 
passage. On finding he had not, Lafayette remarked that his servant 
must have secreted the visitor in a side room ; and went on to inform 
his friend that Prince Louis iN'apoleon Bonaparte had just left him ! 
that although a Bonaparte then risked his life by entering France, the 
prince had come to propose a marriage with his grand -daughter 
Clementine, thus uniting the Republicans and Imperialists, and 
making himself Emperor ! Lafayette replied that his family adopted 
the American practice of choosing husbands for themselves, and that 
the prince could address the lady if he pleased. Of what followed, 
we are not informed ; but must infer that his suit, if preferred, was 
unsuccessful, as the lady afterward married M. de Beaumont, French 
ambassador under Louis Napoleon, to the court of Austria. Wlien in 
London, some time after, Mr. Cooper mentioned to the Princess 
Charlotte, (widow of the elder brother of Louis l^apoleon,) the 
prince's daring visit ; to which she only replied, " he is mad ! " 

Mr. N. P. Willis, who related the fact some years since, prophetically 
added, "there is a 'method in his madness,* for the same match 
between Imperialism and Republicanism has been the prince's pur- 
suit ever Bince, aod the ch^ces aj-e tljat he wilj. bring it about^" 



406 

however, compHed to a manifestly sma*! extent with 
the request of the government for a general illumina- 
tion. Solicitations to sign petitions for the restoration 
of the empire were already addressed to the inhabit- 
ants of the faubourgs of Paris, but the number of 
subscribers was not very encouraging. In the month 
of September, Louis J^apoleon made ai. extensive tour 
through the south and west of France. Though the 
accounts in the journals were without doubt exagger- 
ated, the various receptions and displays arranged Tjy 
functionaries of the government, and various means 
taken to stimulate enthusiasm, yet it must be admitted 
that this journey was highly successful in producing 
an exhibition of popular homage and attachment. 
The name of Napoleon still demonstrated its potency 
with the masses of the French. Along the entire 
route the President was hailed with cries of " Vive 
V EiwperexirP His liberality excited admiration and 
increased his popularity. He donated thousands of 
francs to the charitable institutions of various towns 
through which he passed, and distributed gold with 
his own hands to the veterans of the old empire. His 
munificence was even exercised in a way which 
evinced his arbitrary assumption of power. He pub- 
lished a decree at Toulon to the effect that the fortifi- 
cations of that important place were to be immediately 
enlarged and strengthened. The decree was placarded 
on all the walls of the town, much to the satisfaction 
of the inhabitants, who looked upon it not only as a 
means of increasing the importance of their town, but 
also of affording labor to the working classes. The 
President had previously granted two inillion fi^^ 



VISIT TO TOULON AND LYONS. 407 

hundred thousand francs for the building of the new 
cathedral at Marseilles. This prodigality on the part 
of Louis Napoleon, without even the formality of 
asking the legislative corps, was the subject of strong 
animadversion on the part of those who had hoped 
that the parliamentary system was not altogether 
destroyed. 

The ceremonies at Toulon were somewhat ludicrous 
and unlucky. The mayor, in his confusion, when re- 
ceiving the President at the gates of the town, forgot 
the important ceremony of presenting him with the 
keys of the town. He afterward wished to repair the 
omission when Louis l^apoleon visited the arsenal ; 
but the admiral told him bluntly that the arsenal was 
quite independent of the town, and that he (the admi- 
ral) would allow no mayor to assume any jurisdiction 
over it. In the ball-room a rather awkward aiiaii 
occurred. The decorations were of a former period, 
and the workmen omitted to change the initials " R. 
F." Fortunately the mayor discovered the mistake in 
time. The "R" was altered into an "E," which at 
once converted Rejpublique Francaise into Empire 
Francaise. The distant magistracy of Toulon could 
hardly be blamed for not keeping their mottoes corre- 
sponding with their oft-changing allegiance to their 
central government. 

At Lyons, the President witnessed the ceremony of 
erecting an equestrian statue of the Emperor Kapoleon, 
and made a speech of considerable significance in 
connection with his progress toward the imperial 
dignity : 

"Ljonese," he said, "your cit^ nas always been 



408 

associated by remarkable incidents with the different 
phases of the life of the Emperor. You hailed him 
Consul previous to his crossing the Alps to gather fresh 
laurels. You hailed him in his omnipotence, Emperor ; 
and when Europe had confined him on an island, you 
were again among the first, in 1815, to salute him as 
Emperor. To-day your city is the first to erect a statue 
to him. This fact is significant. Equestrian statues 
are only erected to sovereigns who have resigned, and 
it was on that account the governments who preceded 
me have ever denied that homage to a power of which 
they would not admit the legitimacy. And yet who 
was more legitimate than the Emperor, thrice elected 
by the people, consecrated by the chief of religion, and 
recognized by all the continental powers of Europe, 
who were united to him by bonds of policy and by ties 
of blood ? The Emperor was the mediator between two 
hostile epochs. He destroyed the old regime by re- 
establishing all that was good in it. He destroyed the 
revolutionary spirit, by causing the blessings of the 
revolution everywhere to triumph. This is the reason 
why those who overturned him soon deplored their 
triumph. As for those who defended him, I need not 
call to mind how profoundly they lamented his down- 
fall. On that account, when the people found them- 
selves free to make a choice, they directed their eyes to 
the heir of Napoleon, and it is for the same motive 
that, from Paris to Lyons, everywhere on my passage 
the unanimous cry of Vive V Empereur^ has been 
raised ! But that cry is much more, in my view, a 
recollection that affects my heart, than a hope that 
excites my pride. A faithful servant of my country, 
I shall ever have but one object — that of reconstituting 
in this great country, convulsed by so many revolutions 
and Utopian schemes, a peace founded on conciliation 
of persons, on the inflexibility of the principles of 
authority, morality, and affection for the laboring and 
suffering classes, and of national dignity. We are 
only just emerging from those critical times, when, the 
notions of good and evil being confounded, the beet 
minds were perverted. Prudence and patriotism 



iequire that at such periods the nation should pause 
iind consider, before it fixes its destinies, and it is still 
difiicult for me to know under what name I can render 
the greatest services. If the humble title of President 
could facilitate the mission confided to Tne^ and before 
which I did not recede^ I should not^ from, personal 
interest^ desire to exchange that title for the title of 
Emperor, Let us, then, deposit on this stone our 
homage to a great man. We thus honor both the 
glory of France and the generous gratitude of the 
people, and testify likewise the fidelity of the Ly onese 
to immortal souvenirs." 

This speech was received with loud cries of Yive 
V Ernpereur ! It was immediately transmitted by 
telegraph, and placarded in the streets of Paris. 

At another place, in answer to an address from the 
au'thorities urging the Imperial regime, he remarked : 
" When the general interest is at stake, I will try to 
anticipate public opinion ; but I follow it in the case 
of an interest which may appear personal." The sin- 
cerity of such expressions may be justly subject to sus- 
picion, when mercenary agents were shouting among 
the crowds, Yive V Empereur ! 

Previous to the entrance of the President into Mar- 
seilles, a discovery was made of a supposed plot to 
assassinate him by means of an infernal machine, in 
imitation of a similar attempt made upon the life of 
Napoleon when First Consul. Numerous pieces of 
gas pipe, so constructed as to answer the purpose of 
musket barrels, and loaded with hundreds of bullets, 
were discovered in a house situated on the route by 
which it was presumed the prince would enter the 
city. Many arrests were made of individuals supposed 
to have a connection with this affair, and the impression 
18 



410 TfiE COUP d'etat. 

was sought to be conveyed that the ramifications of 
the plot were extended to various prominent places 
throughout France. There w^as quite a strong sus- 
picion on the other hand, that this whole aifair 
was but an ingenious device of the police to increase 
the popular interest in the President; and there are 
some important considerations favoring such an idea. 

After having passed over the most of his contem- 
plated route, and having had a good opportunity to 
observe the temper and inclinations of the people, the 
prince more explicitly announced his opinions as to 
the assumption of the title of Emperor, in the following 
speech at Bordeaux, which is given with the reporter's 
remarks as to its reception : 

"The object of my journey, as you are aware, was 
to become personally acquainted with our beautiful 
provinces of the south, and to study their necessities. 
It has, however, given occasion for a much more 
important result. In fact, and I may say it with a 
frankness as far removed from vanity as false modesty, 
never did a people testify in a direct, more spontane- 
ous, more unanimous manner, their determination to 
relieve themselves from anxiety for their future condi- 
tion by consolidating in one hand a power with which 
they sympathize. (Applause.) 

"The nation now surrounds me with its sympathy, 
oecause I do not belong to the family of ''ideologues? 
To achieve the well-being of the country, there is no 
necessity for the application of new systems, but it is 
before all things necessary to give confidence in the 
present, and security for the future. This is the reason 
why France appears to wish to return to the empire. 
("Yes, yes." "Bravo." " Vive 1' Empereur.") There 
is, nevertheless, one apprehension to which I must 
allude. In a spirit of mistrust, certain people exclaim, 
*T'.e empire is war.' But I say, 'The empire is peace.- 



gPfiECH AT BOEDllAtTX. ill 

It is peace, for France desires it ; and when France is 
contented, the world is tranquil. (These words, pro- 
nounced in a firm and emphatic tone, produced an 
immense sensation.) 

"Glory may be bequeathed as an inheritance, but 
not war. Did those princes who gloried in being the 
descendants of Louis XI Y. recommence his combats? 
War is not made for pleasure, it is made from necessity, 
and at those epochs of transition when, side by side 
with so many elements of prosperity, so many causes 
of death also germinate, we may well say with truth, 
cursed be he who shall be the first to give the signal in 
Europe of a coalition, the consequences of which would 
be incalculable. I admit, however, that I, like tlie 
Emperor, have many conquests to make. I desire, as 
he did, to conquer, by conciliation, dissenting parties, 
and to bring back into the current of the great popular 
streams those hostile rivulets which run to nothing, 
without profit for any one. 

"I desire to conquer, by religion, by morality, by 
prosperity, that yet numerous part of the population, 
which, in the midst of a country of faith and belief, 
scarcely knows the precepts of Christ — which, in the 
midst of the most fertile country in the world, can 
scarcely enjoy such of the produce of the earth as the 
first necessity requires. (Sensation.) We have im- 
mense uncultivated territories to clear, roads to make, 
ports to deepen, rivers to render navigable, canals to 
finish, our net- work of railways to complete. 

"We have, opposite to Marseilles, a vast kingdom to 
assimilate to France; we have all our great westorn 
ports to bring nearer to the American continent, by the 
rapidity of communication which we still want ; in a 
word, we have everywhere ruins to rebuild, false gods 
to cast down, truths to make triumph. (Prolonged 
applause.) Thus do I understand the empire — if the 
empire is to be re-established. (Sensation. "YiveP 
Empereurl") Such are the conquests which I contem- 
plate ; and all you who surround me, who desire, with 
me, the good of your country, you are my soldiers." 
C' Yes, yes/' Kepeated plaudits.) 



^12 fHE COUP d'eTAI'. 

On his way back to Paris, Louis Napoleioh stopped at 
the Chateau d'Amboise, and liberated Abd-el-Kader 
from his captivity, informing him that he would be 
conducted to Broussa in Turkey, where he would re- 
ceive from the French government an allowance 
befitting his rank. 

About the middle of October the President reached 
Paris, and was greeted with imposing demonstrations 
and great apparent enthusiasm. The ordinary elements 
of such spectacles were more profuse than usual — tri- 
umphal arches, banners, transparencies, gilded eagles, 
deputations, processions, the army, and the citizens in 
their holiday suits, all exhibited their splendors to the 
best advantage under the favor of a cloudless sky, and 
weather as fine as could be wished. The inscriptions 
and devices exhibited a remarkable uniformity of sen- 
timent, the consequence, it was charged, of being pre- 
pared by the orders of the government, though this 
was denied by the official journal, which maintained 
that the reception in all parts was the spontaneous 
tribute of the people of Paris. The prince entered the 
city on horseback, by the bridge of Austerlitz, which 
was spanned by a grand arch, dedicated by *' the city 
of Paris to Louis ITapoleon, Emperor." Of similar 
purport were all the inscriptions. An immense con- 
course of troops and people followed him to the Tuil- 
eries, with shouts of " Vive Napoleon III ! " He was 
surrounded by a numerous staff, among whom were 
several foreign officers ; but it was remarked that none 
of the foreign ministers took part in the display. In 
the evening the city was illuminated. This was, with- 
out doubt, the finest receution with which the President 



MESSAGE to THIJ SENATE. 



m 



had ever met in Paris, and must have satisfied him, 
had he any scruples, of the feasibility of speedily 
reaching the summit of his ambition. 

He now no longer hesitated in taking that step lor 
which he had made such long and patient preparations. 
By talent, by maneuvering, by flattery, oy unfaltering 
energy of purpose, and the unscrupulous use of all 
necessary means, he had formed the antecedents of the 
empire. Immediately, therefore, on his return, he 
issued a decree, summoning the senate to meet on the 
4th of November, to consider the question of changing 
the form of government, and re-establishing the empire, 
in consequence of the expressed wishes of the people 
of France. The senate met on the day appointed, and 
was opened by Prince Jerome Bonaparte with a brief 
statement of the object of the session. The following 
message from the President was then read by the 
minister of state 1 

"Senators, — The nation has clearly manifested its 
wish for the re-establishment of the empire. Confident 
in your patriotism and your intelligence, I have con- 
voked you for the purpose of deliberating on that grave 
question, and of intrusting you with the regulation of 
the new order of things. If you should adopt it, you 
will think, no doubt, as I do, that the constitution of 
1852 ought to be maintained, and then the modifications 
recognized as indispensable wiU in no way touch its 
fundamental basis. 

"The change which is in preparation will bear chiefly 
on the form, and yet the resumption of the Imperial 
system is, for France, of immense significance. In 
fact, in the re-establishment of the empire, the people 
finds a guarantee for its interests, and a satisfaction for 
its just pride. That re-establishment guarantees the 
interests of the people, by insuring the future, by 
closing the era of revolutions, and by again consecrat- 



414 i'fifi COtJP D^ETAt". 

ing the conquests of '89. It satisfies its just pride, 
because in restoring, with liberty and reflection, that 
which thirty-seven years ago the entire of Europe had 
overturned by the force of arms, in the midst of the 
disasters of the country, the people nobly avenges its 
reverses without victims, without threatening any inae- 
pendence, and without troubling the peace ofthe world. 

"I do not ignore, nevertheless, all that is full 
of peril, in at this day accepting and placing on 
one's head the crown of Napoleon; but my appre- 
hensions diminish with the idea that, representing as 
I do, by so many titles, the cause of the people and 
the national will, it will be the nation which, in ele- 
vating me to the throne, will herself crown me. 

(Signed) LOUIS JSTAPOLEOJST. 

Given at the Palace of St. Cloud, ITov. 4. 1852." 

A proposition to modify the constitution, signed by 
ten senators, was then presented ; and a committee of 
ten was appointed, which submitted a long report, 
accompanied by a Senatus Consultum^ consisting of 
eight articles. After some discussion on each of the 
articles, the whole was adopted by a vote of eighty-six 
out of eighty -seven senators. The substance of this act 
of the senate is as follows : it declares that, 1. The em- 
pire is re-established, and Louis l^apoleon Bonaparte 
is Emperor under the name of ISTapoleon III. ; 2. The 
imperial dignity is hereditary in his direct and legiti- 
mate male descendants, by order of primogeniture ; 
3. If he has no male descendants, he may adopt the 
legitimate children and descendants in the male line 
of the brothers of Napoleon I. ; 4. Adoption is inter- 
dicted to his descendants ; 5. He is to regulate by an 
organic decree the order of succession, in case he 
should leave no direct, legitimate or adopted heir; 
6, The members of the family of Louis Napoleon who 



COMPLtANCE OF THE SENATE. 415 

«an eventually be called to the sncession, ana their 
descendants, constitute the imperial family, whose posi- 
tion is regulated by the senatus consultum, and none 
of whom can marry without the Emperor's sanction ; 
7. The constitution of January 15, 1852, is maintained 
in all its provisions not contrary to the present senatus 
consultum, and no modification of it can be efiected ex- 
cept in the manner and by the means which it has 
prescribed ; 8. The proposition that the empire be re- 
established upon this basis and on these conditions, is 
to be submitted to the people for their acceptance. 

Immediately after the adoption of this act, the sen- 
ators in full costume, and the cardinals in scarlet robes, 
preceded by an escort of cavalry, repaired to the 
palace of St. Cloud, where they were, ushered into the 
presence of the Prince President. 

In his reply to the senate at this interview, Louis 

Napoleon observed : 

""When, forty-eight years since, in this same palace, in 
this same room, and under analogous circumstances, the 
senate came to offer the crown to the chief of my fam- 
ily, the Emperor replied in these memorable words : 
'My spirit will no longer be with my posterity from 
the day when that posterity shall cease to meri' the 
love and the confidence of the great nation.' What 
now most affects my heart is the thought that the spirit 
of the Emperor is with me, that his ideas guide me, 
that his shade protects me, since, by a solemn proceed- 
ing, you come, in the name of the French people, to 
prove to me that I have merited the confidence of the 
country. It is not necessary for me to tell you that 
my constant care will be to labor with you to promote 
the grandeur and prosperity of France." 

On the 21st and 22d days of E'ovember, the expres- 
Bion of the popular will was taken throughout France. 



4i6 THE COtI* dVmI'. 

But little opposition was manifested. The result of the 
Tote was as follows : 

Foj the empire, 7,864,189 

Agaitistit, 2.'i3,l45 

Votes canceled as illegal, 63,326 

Majority for Louis JS^apoleon, 7,547,718 

On the 1st of December, the legislative corps, num- 
bering two hundred and forty members, assembled for 
the purpose of making the official declaration of the 
election ; then proceeding to St. Cloud, in full costume, 
announced the result. The next day, December 22d, 
the anniversary of the coup d^etat^ Louis l^apoleon 
made his public entry, as Emperor, into Paris. His 
arrival was greeted with the acclamations of the peo- 
ple, the national guard, and the army. The public 
proclamation of the empire was made at the Hotel de 
Yilie during the same morning, previously to his arrival. 
To the congratulatory addresses from the senate and th^ 
legislative corps, his Imperial Majesty made the follow- 
ing reply : 

" Gentlemen : The new reign which you this day in- 
augurate has not its origin, as so many others which 
history records, in violence, conquest, or intrigue ; it 
is, as you have just declared, the legal result of the 
will of an entire people — what it had founded in the 
midst of agitation. 

*' I am deeply grateful to the nation which three 
times in four years has supported me by its suffrage, 
and which each time has only augmented its majority 
in order to increase my power. But the more this 
power gains in extent and in vital force, the more need 
it has of enlightened men like those whom I address, to 
guide me by their counsels, and to reduce my authority 
within just limits, if ever it should transgress them. 

"From this day I take with the crown the name of 
iSTapoleon UL. because the opinion of the people Ijas 



417 

already bestowed it on me in their acclamations, be- 
cause the senate has legally proposed it, and because 
the whole nation has ratified it. 

"Does this, however, signify that in taking this title, 
I fall into the error imputed to the prince who, return- 
ing from exile, declared all that had been done in his 
absence null and void ? 

"So erroneous a notion is far from me. Not only do 
I recognize the governments which have preceded me, 
but I inherit in some sort what they have accomplished 
of good and evil : for successive governments, notwith- 
standing their difierent origin, are severally bound by 
the acts of their predecessors. 

" But the more I accept that which, for the last fifty 
years, history hands down to us with its inflexible 
authority, the less was it allowed me t-o pass over in 
silence the glorious reign of the chief of my family, 
and the title, regular although ephemeral, of his son, 
which the chambers proclaimed with the last outburst 
of conquered patriotism. 

"Thus, then, the title of Kapoleon III. is not one of 
those dynastic and obsolete pretensions which seem an 
insult alike to truth and common sense ; it is the hom- 
age paid to a government which was legitimate, and 
to which we are indebted for the finest pages of our 
modern history. My reign does not date from 1815 ; it 
dates from the very instant that you have communicated 
to me the sufirages of the nation. 

"And here receive the oath, that I will use every 
exertion to assure the prosperity of this country ; and 
that, while maintaining peace, I will yield nothing 
which affects the honor and dignity of France." 

The most enthusiastic cries of "Yive I'Empereur," 
"Yive Kapoleon III.," followed this speech. 

The senate was convened the next day, and pro- 
ceeded to determine the civil list of the new regime. 
A general amnesty relating to offenses of the press, and 

also in many cases to political offenses, was declared. 

27 



418 

Tlie presumptive inheritance of the crown was settled 
upon the ex-King Jerome Bonaparte and his family, 
who bear the title of "their Imperial Highnesses." 
Prince Napoleon Bonaparte, the cousin of the Ernperor, 
was appointed viceroy of the kingdom of Algeria. 

There was no hesitation on the part of foreign 
powers to acknowledge the empire. The acquies- 
cence of England was so promptly accorded as to 
excite the "most vivid satisfaction" of his Imperial 
Majesty. The Pope conveyed to the Emperor expres- 
sions of his entire satisfaction with the new order of 
things. 

The Emperor submitted to the senate certain amend- 
ments to the last constitution, whereby the prerogatives 
of granting amnesties, making treaties, decreeing pub- 
lic works, and the right of ministers to vote upon the 
budget, were assured to him. The senate ventured on 
a small show of independence, by hesitating to confirm 
the proposed modifications, and finally appointed a 
committee to wait upon his Majesty. This committee 
used every argument to dissuade him from his deter- 
mination, but his only answer was: "So the senate 
wants a conflict, for form's sake." 

To give eclat to the Emperor's clemency, Abd-el- 
Kader was permitted to come to Paris, while these 
first days of the restored empire were elapsing. He 
was entertained with splendid military reviews, and 
visits to all places of interest in the grand capital. 
His presence in public excited full as much attention 
and applause as did that of the Emperor. Had he 
been able to speak the language, he would have 
become celebrated for the readiness and picjuancj of 



THE NEW EMPEESS. 419 

his repartees. One day he was taken to Yeibailles, 
to visit the palace of Louis XIY. His hosts avoided 
showing him the rooms, in which is the series of 
pictures illustrating the war in Algiers. He, however, 
insisted on seeing them, and his desire was gratified. 
He said nothing till he came to the splendid painting 
by Yernet, representing the taking of the tent of Abd- 
el-Kader. He then quietly observed: "If I had had 
painters at my command, I should have ordered pic- 
tures, too ! " After being royally entertained at Paris, 
he sailed on the 21st of December for his place of 
exile in the East. 

In the month of January, 1853, Paris was taken by 
surprise on the announcement of the expected speedy 
marriage of the Emperor. The negotiations with the 
royal families of Europe, if they ever existed, came to 
an unsuccessful conclusion. Either the charms of the 
lady, or the sudden discovery of a more profound and 
useful policy, put an end to all schemes of politico- 
matrimonial arrangements, and !Napoleon III. selected 
his wife, as one of the humblest of his subjects might 
have done. The present Empress of France is a 
Spanish lady, but of Irish extraction, her family 
having intermarried with the noble Spanish house of 
Palafox. She bore the name of Eugenie de Montejo, 
Countess of Teba. She possesses rare personal at- 
tractions, but more in the style of English than of 
Spanish beauty. Her complexion is transparently 
fair, her features regular and yet full of expression. 
She is a little above middle stature, with manners 
extremely winning, and at the time of her marriage 
wp-s about twenty-six years of age. With brilliant 



420 

Bocial charms, she was naturally the center of fashion 
in the gay capital, and attracted in a special manner 
the attentions of the new Emperor. His proposals to 
her were made and accepted on the 16th of January ; 
and on the following day the fact was publicly 
announced. One immediate consequence was the 
resignation of the ministry. The 'resignations were 
not, however, accepted. 

She is said ever to have been quite a dashing, ec- 
centric, and independent young lady, and has all her 
life followed the dictates of her own fancy. She used 
frequently to be observed on the Prado, at Madrid, in 
the midst of the fashionable crowd, in a simple little 
carriage drawn by two ponies, no larger than dogs, 
and which she drove herself, accompanied by her 
sister or friend, and with some noblemen of her family 
on a very small seat behind. The Queen of Spain has 
been seen to recognize her in this equipage. Many 
piquant anecdotes are told of her free and rather 
unfeminine conduct in both Madrid and Paris. In 
the former metropolis, she once waited on an actor of 
the French theater, with the somewhat abrupt, though 
dashing and sprightly declaration that she Wked him^ 
and would learn something of his history and travels. 
She insisted that he should take a seat in her carriage. 
Remonstrance would not avail. Into the carriage he 
did get, and after a ride of four hours around the city, 
he was safely landed at his cafe^ much to his own 
astonishment, and her amusement. 

On the 22d of January the various chief function- 
aries of state presented themselves at the Tuileries, 
to receive from the Emperor the announcement of hi§ 



THE EMPEEOR ON HIS MARRIAGE. 421 

intended marriage, which he made in the following 
speech : 

" Messieurs : I yi-eld to the wish so often manifested 
by the country, in coming to announce to yoa my 
marriage. 

''The alliance which I contract, is not in accord with 
the traditions of ancient policy, and therein is its 
advantage. France, by its successive revolutions, has 
ever abruptly separated from the rest of Europe. 
Every wise government ought to try to make it re- 
enter into the pale of the old monarchies. But this re- 
sult will be more surely attained by a straightforward 
and frank policy, by loyalty in conduct, than by royal 
alliances, which create a false security, and often sub- 
stitute family interests for those of the nation. More- 
over, the example of the past has left in the mind of 
the people superstitious feelings. It has not forgotten 
that for seventy years foreign princesses have mounted 
the throne but to behold their race dispossessea and 
proscribed by war or by revolution. 

"One woman alone seemed to bring happiness, and 
to live more than the others in the memory of the 
people — and that woman, the modest and good wife of 
Gen. Bonaparte, was not the issue of royal blood. It 
must, however, be admitted that in 1810 the marriage 
of J^apoleon I. with Marie Louise was a great event. 
It was a pledge for the future, a real satisfaction to the 
national pride, as the ancient and illustrious branch 
of the house of Austria, who had been so long at war 
with us, was seen to solicit the alliance of the elected 
chief of the new empire. Under the last reign, on the 
contrary, the amour propre of the country had to 
suifer, when the heir to the crown solicited, fruitlessly, 
during several years, a princely alliance, to obtain it 
only in a secondary rank, and in a different religion. 

*' When in the presence of old Europe, one is borne 
on by the force of a new principle to the height of 
ancient dynasties, it is not by giving an ancient char- 
acter to one's escutcheon, {envieillissant son hlason^ 
and by seeking to introduce oneself at all costs into a 



422 THE COUP d'etat. 

family, that one is accepted. It is rather by evei 
remembering one's origin, by preserving one's own 
character, and by adopting frankly, in presence of 
Europe, the position oi parvenu — a glorious title when 
on# obtains it by the free suffrages of a great people. 
Thus, obliged to depart from precedents followed to 
the present day, my marriage became a private affair, 
and there remained only the choice of the person. 

"She who has been the object of my preference is 
of distinguished birth. French in heart, by education, 
by the recollection of the blood shed by her father in 
the cause of the empire, she has, as a Spaniard, the ad- 
vantage of not having in France a family to whom it 
might be necessary to give honors and fortune. En- 
dowed with all the qualities of the mind, she will 1)0 
the ornament of the throne; in the day of danger she 
would be one of its courageous supporters. A Catholic, 
she will address to heaven the same prayers with me 
for the happiness of France. In fine, by her grace and 
her goodness, she will, I have the firm hope, endeavor 
to revive, in the same position, the virtues of the 
Empress Josephine. 

"I come, then. Messieurs, to announce to France that 
I have preferred the woman whom I love and whom I 
respect, to one who is unknown, and whose alliance 
would have had advantages mixed with sacrifices. 
Without disdaining any one, I yet yield to my inclina- 
tions, but after having taken counsel from my reason and 
my convictions. In fine, by placing the independence, 
the qualities of the heart, domestic happiness, above 
dynastic prejudices and the calculations of ambition, 
I shall not be the less strong because I shall be more free. 

"Soon proceeding to Notre Dame I shall present the 
Empress to the people and to the army ; the confidence 
they have in me assures me of their sympathy, and you, 
Messieurs, on learning better to appreciate her whom 
I have chosen, you will allow that on this occasion also 
I have been inspired by Providence." 

The civil marriage was celebrated at the palace ol 
the Tuileries on the 29th of January, and the religions 



CELEBBATION OF THE MAKKIAGE. 423 

ceremonies took place the next day, which was Sunday, 
at the church of Notre Dame. At an early hour in 
the morning all Paris was astir, to witness one of those 
displays which have so often appeared to compensate 
the French for the loss of their liberties. The description 
of the scene is given in the words of an eye-witness : 

"Shortly after 9 o'clock, large bodies of cavalry and 
infantry were to be seen directing their way from the 
different barracks in and around Paris toward the point 
allotted to them on the route between the palace of the 
Elysee, and between the latter and the cathedral of 
Notre Dame. At the same time the whole of the na- 
tional guards of Paris were called out for the purpose 
of doing honor to the day, by forming the line on one 
side of the streets through which the procession was to 
pass, while the infantry of the line formed the other. 
A vast number of deputations of the trades and woik- 
people were to be seen with flags and banners directing 
their steps toward the garden of the Tuileries, which 
was the spot specially set aside for that purpose. Many 
of the deputations were very picturesque, consisting as 
they did of young women dressed in white, adorned 
with wreaths of flowers, and carrying boquets in their 
hands. 

"A wooden structure was raised, in three com- 
partments, over the grand entrance and the two side 
doors, and painted in the fashion of the medieval ages, 
to match the character of the building. Green pre- 
dominated in the decorations, that being the color of 
the Emperor, and the letters ' N. E.' were to be seen 
in various places, in honor of the imperial couple. 
Above the wooden erection, long draperies of green 
velvet floated to the wind, and higher up, along the 
facade of the building, was to be seen a line of flags 
of various colors ; higher still, the old towers themselves 
were covered with gold brocade. The effect was unusu- 
ally rich ; and as the weather was dry, though cold, the 
pleasure of regarding these precious materials, thus 
exposed to the open air, was not marred by any 



4:24: 

apprehension of injury from rain. The lower part uf the 
decorations near the various entrances, was hung with 
crimson velvet, edged with gold lace. 

" The first feeling of the spectator on entering was one 
of unmixed admiration. Along the whole of the nave 
was suspended from the arched roof an absolute forest 
of chandeliers, containing thousands of wax lights. 
The pillars were enveloped, from plinth to capital, with 
crimson velvet. At the top of each capital was affixed 
a richlj gilt shield, bearing a gilt eagle. Between the 
pillars, springing from the arches, higher up, was to be 
seen a drapery of crimson velvet, edged down the sides 
with an imitation of ermine, and fringed at the bottom 
with deep gold lace; this drapery served to mask the 
wood- work of a long line of galleries, erected from pil- 
lar to pillar, and filled with elegantly dressed ladies. 
Again, higher up, a pallium of green velvet, studded 
with golden stars, was seen between every two pillars, 
and bearing in its center a gigantic 'JST.' Garlands of 
flowers were festooned among these draperies, and other 
shields were placed on the flat wall of the building, under 
the lofty windows, each having on it a figure of Our 
Lady, to whom the cathedral is dedicated.' The crim- 
son velvet on the pillars next to the nave, had no other 
ornament than an edging of gold lace under the capital 
of each ; but those of the side aisles were studded with 
golden stars, and bore the letter 'jN"' in front. Three 
chandeliers, one large one, and two smaller, gave light 
to each tribune above; and three ranges of immense 
lustres of beautifully cut glass, ran down the center of 
the nave. At the eastern end of the building the chan- 
cel had been cut off from the ceremony by the erection 
of a temporary altar just where the transepts leave the 
choir. Above the altar rose a lofty canopy of crimson 
velvet, lined, to all appearance, with ermine, and sur- 
mounted with a gilt eagle of immense size. Between 
this canopy and the altar, was to be seen a sort of taber- 
nacle in the Byzantine style, which extended at each 
side to the transepts, and thus formed a screen, shutting 
out the chancel and its side aisles. But though the 
building was cut into two unequal parts, the portion 



THE MAREIAGE CEREMONY. 4:25 

not occupied by the ceremony was by no means lost, 
as immense chandeliers hung from the roof in that part 
of the church, just the same as in that appropriated to 
the spectators. The consequence of this illumination 
was, that as the temporary screen broke the distance, 
and rendered the view uncertain, the lines of lights 
appeared absolutely interminable, and the general et- 
fect was infinitely enhanced. 

" About 12 h o'clock, some of the deputy chamberlains 
of the palace appeared in their scarlet uniforms, and 
immediately the drums beat a salute and the trumpets 
sounded a flourish. Marshal Yalliant entered the mo- 
ment after, and then came a number of ladies in dresses 
of the brightest colors and the richest materials. 

" The clergy then proceeded down the aisle, with the 
Archbishop of Paris at their head, to meet the Emperor 
and the Empress. At five minutes to one, the Emperor 
and Empress arrived, and having been ofiered the 
morsel of the true cross to kiss by the archbishop, four 
ecclesiastics held a rich dais over the imperial pair, and 
the procession advanced up the church. Marshal Mag- 
nan and the Duke de Bassang led the way, followed by 
Marshal de St. Arnaud and the Duke de Cambaceres. 
Then came the Emperor, leading the Empress by the 
hand, he advancing on the right. The Empress was 
exceedingly pale, but perfectly composed. She looked 
neither to the right or to the left, and advanced stead- 
ily. She wore a dress of white velvet. A vail flowed 
from underneath the small crown sparkling with dia- 
monds. The front of her dress and the basque behind 
also shone with the same rich ornaments. The Empe- 
ror was dressed in the uniform of a general otficer. He 
had on the grand collar of the Legion of Honor which 
had belonged to Napoleon, and the collar of the Golden 
Fleece, which had been suspended from the neck of 
Charles Y., and which the Queen of Spain had sent to 
him. The Emperor looked uncommonly well — in high 
spirits and good health. 

"The cortege returned to the palace of the Tuileries 
in the same order as it went to Notre Dame ; but, in- 
stead of following the streets, it came along the quay, 



426 THE COUP d'etat. 

as far as the Place de la Concorde, and entered the 
palace bv the grand entrance to the garden of the 
Tuileries. The deputations, drawn up in the gardens, 
were respectful but not warm in their salutations." 

The Emperor signalized his marriage by pardoning 
four thousand three hundred and twelve persons, who 
iVere suffering banishment or imprisonment for political 
offenses ; but the list embraced the names of no men 
of prominence, and by its extent, evinced the actual 
rigor by which his rule had been previously marked. 
All the banished generals, and the men of note, who 
were proscribed after the events of December 1851, 
are still under the ban. The Empress gained large 
accessions of esteem and popularity by his liberality. 
The city of Paris desired to present her with a superb 
necklace, valued at six hundred thousand francs. This 
present she declined, and at her request, the municipal 
council devoted the money to the foundation of a school 
for poor girls, to be under her special patronage. A 
quarter of a million of francs, which her husband 
placed at her disposal, she also devoted in charity. 

The legislative assembly met on the 14th of February. 
In his speech at the opening, after relating the prosper- 
ous and tranquil state of the nation, the Emperor said : 

" These results have not cost great efforts, because 
they were in the minds and for the interests of all. To 
those who would doubt their importance, I will reply, 
tliat scarcely fourteen months ago France was delivered 
up to the hazards of anarchy. To those who regret 
that a wider lield has not been given to liberty, I will 
reply, that liberty has never aided in founding a dura- 
ble political edifice ; it crowns it when it has been 
consolidated by time. Let us, besides, not forget that 
the immense majority of the country has confidence 



CONDITION OF THE, OOUNTKT. 427 

in the present and faith in the future ; there still re- 
main incorrigible individuals, who, forgetful of their 
own experience, of their past errors, and of their dis- 
appointments, obstinately persist in paying no atten- 
tion to the national will, deny the reality of facts, and 
in the midst of a sea which every day grows more 
tranquil, call for tempests, in which they would be 
the first to be swallowed up. These secret proceed- 
ings of the different parties serve no purpose but to 
show their weakness, and the government, instead of 
being disturbed at them, only thinks of governing 
France and tranquilizing Europe." 

The condition of France, under a stable and efficient 
government, evinced the marks of an immediate and 
increasing prosperity. The public revenues increased, 
and the financial condition of the state became better 
than it had been for the previous twenty years. By 
the firm determination of the Emperor, and the zeal- 
ous cooperation of the Assembly, the expenditures 
were brought within the limits of the national income ; 
a rare occurrence in French finance. Large reduc- 
tions were made in the line of the army, and every 
indication of a peaceful intention was given by the 
Emperor. Considerable apprehension, however, was 
felt in England, of a rupture between the two gov- 
ernments. It is related that at this time an English 
nobleman was riding with the Emperor toward Com- 
piegne, and being desirous of surprising him into a 
candid answer, abruptly asked him if he really thought 
of invading England. The reply to this rather impu- 
dent question was : " I have no such intention unless 
you force me to it ; but from what I see and hear of 
your democratic spirit in England, I think it very 
likely that I shall have to go over some day, and 



428 

help your Queen." My lord was compelled to pocket 
the rejoinder. 

Louis IRapoleon evidently strengthened himself 
greatly by the assumption of the imperial title and 
dignity. He took his place among sovereigns, and 
Europe was compelled to acknowledge him as one of 
the crowned heads. He gathered around his person 
those memories of the First Emperor, which are so 
precious to the mass of Frenchmen, and which tend 
in their eyes to invest with a bewildering splendor 
the individual who by any act can connect them with 
himself. As he became more exalted, absorbing in 
himself more of the higher powers of the state, his 
rule from necessity became more rigorous. As usual, 
the public press first felt this increased rigor. Its 
freedom was sternly suppressed by warnings, censor- 
ship, and severe penalties. Yet his occasional clem- 
ency toward political offenders won him great praise ; 
more than was deserved, when it still remained true 
that great numbers languished in the prisons, or died 
after untold sufferings in the penal colonies. 

The Emperor's rival. General Cavaignac, remained 
unreconciled to him, though submitting to his rule. 
He continued a rigid republican, as was his father 
before him. The following anecdote is given of 
him : Bergere, the prefect of the Seine, met him 
at the horticultural exhibition, and raised his hat. 
The general responded to the civility with a frigid 
stiffness. " But," said the prefect, approaching him 
more nearly, and mingling cordiality with depreca- 
tion in his tones, " General Cavaigoac's services to 
society, and his varied worth, command a respect and 



REPUBLICAN DEMONSTJiATION. 429 

esteem, the expression of which ought not to be af- 
fected bj a difference in political opinions." '*It is 
not a simple difference of opinion between us," re- 
plied the ex-dictator ; " we belong to different camps." 
A republican demonstration, such as had not been 
attempted since the coujp d'etat^ took place in Paris 
not long after the imperial marriage, when a body of 
nearly twenty thousand men marched together in the 
funeral procession of Madame Kaspail, wife of the 
celebrated republican, then a state-prisoner on ac- 
count of his political views. A detachment of cavalry 
and a strong force of police were present, and pre- 
vented any speeches over the grave. This immense 
line of men, five deep, marching with bare heads and 
in solemn silence past the columns of liberty on the 
Place de la Bastile^ evinced the yet strong sentiment 
in the hearts of many against the existing form of 
government, as well as the popularity of the impris- 
oned Raspail. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE EMPIRE AND THE RUSSIAN WAR. 

Louis N"apoleon declared that the "Empire was 
peace ;" but it did not long continue so. It was in- 
ternal peace to France; for it placed in one hand 
those vast powers of the state, under which all op- 
posing political parties were crushed. But it was 
consolidated by a war which revived in a degree the 
military excitements and glories of the first empire. 
For this domestic influence, this confirming of his own 
power at home, and the increase of his influence in 
the politics of Europe, the French Emperor was the 
more ready to engage in that war with the Emperor 
of Russia, which has signalized the middle of the 
present century. 

The Emperor Nicholas of Russia, throughout his 
whole reign, directed his policy toward the extension 
of his influence in the affairs of Turkey. The osten- 
sible motive for his interference in the affairs of that 
nation in the year 1853, was his solicitude respecting 
the Holy Places, so called, in Palestine, and also con- 
cerning the condition of those subjects of the Sultan 
who belonged to the Greek church. Regarded 
throughout all the Russias with an almost religious 
reverence, as the great defender of that church, he 
claimed the right to extend his protection over its 
rnetsbers living under ^ ]\Johammedan sov^reigu. 



RUSSIAN AGGRESSIONS.. 431 

The disputes between himself and the Sublime Porte 
earlj attracted the attention of the prominent nations 
of Europe. The Western States properly regarded 
the independence of Turkey as essential to the main- 
tenance of the political equilibrium of Europe. This 
independence was now seriously assailed by Russia. 
Early in the history of the dispute, a French official 
journal contained an article, attributed to the pen of 
Louis Kapoleon himself, in which it was maintained 
that France was desirous that the treaties of 1815 
should be upheld, and that the Czar should be pre- 
vented from seizing upon Constantinople, as that act 
would be inconsistent with the balance of power 
established by those and subsequent treaties. The 
article plainly intimated that France would be found 
with the other powers, resisting the pretensions of 
Nicholas. Meanwhile the combined fleets of England 
and France in the Mediterranean were moved to within 
striking distance of the probable scene of conflict. 

An attempt upon the life of the French Emperor 
was made on the 4th of July, 1853. He was to at- 
tend the opening of the Opera Comique. Three men 
stationed themselves at the door, by which he was to 
enter the building. When ordered to withdraw, they 
refused. Several others joined them in resisting the 
police, but they were all surrounded and captured. 
They were found to be well armed. Thirty -three 
persons in all were arrested ; and on the trial the dis- 
covery was made of the existence of secret societies 
organized for the purpose of assassinating the Emperor 
and proclaiming the Eepublic. One of the parties 
bad agreed to shoot him on a given signal, and sup- 



432 THE EMPIRE AND THE RUSSIAN WAR. 

ceeded, on the occasion referred to, in getting within 
three feet of him, but did not fire simply because the 
signal was not made. Almost the entire number 
were found guilty, and sentenced to imprisonment and 
banishment for periods varying from three to eight 
years. 

Meanwhile, affairs in the East became more com 
plicated and threatening. The original grounds of 
dispute between Turkey and Eussia began to be lost 
sight of in the greater scheme of attack evidently 
meditated by the Czar, upon the integrity of the Ot- 
toman Empire, and thus upon the general peace of 
Europe. England and France maintained that they 
were bound by treaties to uphold the independence 
of the Sultan. They announced their intention to act 
according to the purport of those treaties. Diplomatic 
notes, filled with skillful pleas, explanations, and ar- 
guments, passed constantly between the different 
parties to the strife. Eecriminations also were not 
lacking. Eussia then, having concentrated troops 
upon her southern frontier, ordered them to take post 
in the Danubian provinces. It was claimed on her 
part that this was not intended as an act of war, but 
merely as a means of obtaining material guarantees, 
until the Ottoman government ^should yield to the 
demands which had been urged for the past twv? 
years. Some 80,000 Eussian troops, therefore, en- 
tered Moldavia and Wallachia. The French and 
English combined squadrons were at the same time 
drawing nearer to Constantinople, and the represen- 
tatives of these governments were encouraging the 
Buitan with their counsels and promises. By the 



otrrBEEA^ 01" aosiiLrfmi. 433 

advice of liis allies the Snltan agreed not to consider 
tlie occupation of the provinces as a sufficient reason 
for war, while they in the meantime exerted them- 
selves to bring about an amicable settlement of the'^ 
affair. Austria offered her services as a mediator, 
and a conference of the great powers of Europe was 
held at Yienna, which drew up a series of proposi- 
tions as the basis of an adjustment. This basis was 
accepted by Eussia, for it admitted substantially 
what the Czar had claimed. 

But it was rejected by the Sultan, as making the 
very concessions to which he had persistently ob- 
jected. The Sultan very properly required that the 
Eussian troops should withdraw from the principali- 
ties they had invaded, and declared his determination 
to commence hostilities unless this demand was 
promptly acceded to. With a refusal to comply, the 
war commenced. Between the 28th of October and 
the 4:th of ^November, four bodies of Turkish troops, 
the strongest of which consisted of 18,000, crossed the 
Danube at different points. Though warmly resisted, 
the Turks established themselves on the north side of 
the river. When the news of the passage of th<j 
Danube was received in Constantinople, the English 
and French Ambassadors ordered twelve vessels of 
the combined squadron into the Bosphorus. 

A naval engagement on the Black Sea took place 
on the 30th of November, in which the Turks acted 
bravely but suffered severely. A small Turkish fleet, 
convoying a number of transports laden with mate- 
rials of war for the coast of Circassia, was chased into 
the harbor of Sinope. The Eussian fleet followed, 
S 28 



484: THE EMPIRE ANl) "ffiE RUSSIAN WAK. 

and succeeded in destroying three frigates, one steam 
frigate, two schooners, and three transports. The in- 
telligence of this affair created great excitement in 
Paris and London. The French Emperor was espe- 
cially indignant, and declared his intention to act with 
energy in resisting the aggressions of Russia. 

The war actually going on between Russia and 
Turkey, efforts, however, were still made by England, 
France, Austria, and Prussia, to secure a satisfactory 
peace. At the same time extensive preparations were 
making by the two former nations for active measures 
of assistance to Turkey. On the 30th of December, 
the French minister for Foreign Affairs addressed a 
note to the different French legations in Europe, in- 
tended to define the actual condition of th^e contro- 
versy, and the line of conduct which France and Eng- 
land would pursue. He reviewed the course of 
Russia, showed how much Turkey had borne, and 
how sincere had been the efforts of the European 
powers for peace, how cautious they had been to 
avoid any collision, and how reasonable were their 
requirements that Russia should act with like caution 
and moderation. He maintained that the affair of 
Sinope had disappointed their expectations, and had 
obliged the allied powers to assume a new attitude. 
They had, therefore, decided that their squadrons 
should enter the Black Sea, and so operate as to pre- 
vent the territory or the flag of the Sultan from being 
the object of any fresh attack on the part of the naval 
forces of Russia. The allied squadrons accordingly 
entered the Black Sea, forming a fleet of fourteen 
English, twelve French, and five Turkish vessels of 



J-ttANCE AND Ei^GLAND DECLARE WAS. 4:35 

war. On the Danube, new successes were achieved 
hy the Turks. 

On the 29th of January, the Emperor of the French 
addressed an autograph letter to the Emperor of 
Russia, going over the same ground which had been 
reviewed in the note of his minister, and making final 
propositions of a pacific character. The letter closed 
by quoting from the Czar's letter of a year previous, 
his protestation that their relations ought to be sin- 
cerely amicable, and to repose on the same intentions, 
the maintenance of order, love of peace, respect for 
treaties, and reciprocal benevolence ; " that pro- 
gramme," said Louis Napoleon, " is worthy of the 
sovereign who traced it, and I do not hesitate to af- 
firm that I have remained firm to it." This letter 
was regarded rather as a manifesto to the French 
nation than as an appeal to the Czar. The Emperor 
of Russia replied to it, skillfully defending his own 
course, and expressing his reliance upon God and on 
his right in the conflict about to ensue. 

The Legislative body, at its session in March, voted 
unanimously a bill to authorize a loan of two hundred 
and fifty millions of francs for the unusual expenses 
of the approaching war. The whole body waited upon 
the Emperor to present him with the vote, in order 
" to render still more striking in the eyes of Europe 
the testimony it ofi'ers to the Emperor of its entire 
confidence and most resolute concurrence." The for- 
mal opening of the war was made by a declaration to 
the Chambers, the 27th of March, that the final resolu- 
tion of the cabinet of St. Petersburgh had placed Rus- 
Bia in a state of war with respect to Fran^ie. The 



Chambers pledged the support of the nation to the 
government in carrying on the war. On the 10th of 
April a convention was signed by the representatives 
of France and England, in which it was agreed that 
the two nations entered into alliance offensive and 
defensive for the reestablishment of peace on a dura- 
ble basis. The contingent of French troops first sent 
to the east was agreed to be from 50,000 to 100,000 
men. 

On the 22d of April, a squadron of five English and 
three French steamers bombarded the town of Odes- 
sa, on the Black Sea, for several hours, the fire being 
warmly returned from the Russian batteries. The 
Russian vessels in port were burned or sunk, the bat- 
teries silenced, and the establishments of the admi- 
ralty destroyed. 

During the summer a body of some 11,000 French 
troops was taken on board the English and French 
fleet for the Baltic, and landed on the 8th of August 
near the fortress of Bomarsund. This fortress, and 
with it all the Aland Islands, fell into the hands of the 
allies, after a regular siege of a few days, on the 16th 
of the same month. 

On the arrival of the French and English troops in 
Turkey, they were established for the time in a camp 
atYarna. Here the cholera broke out during the 
summer, and committed fearful ravages, especially 
among the French regiments. 

The Emperor established large camps at home, at 
St. Omer and Boulogne. At the latter place, in tht 
course of the summer, some 100,000 troops were as- 
sembled; and here a grand military display took 



A STEADFAST EEPtTBLlCAPf. 4:Sl 

place, under the supervision of the Emperor, for the 
entertainment of Prince Albert of England, the King 
of Belgium, Pedro, the young King of Portugal, and 
other distinguished visitors. The troops from these 
camps were transferred to the east, as the demands 
of active service required. 

An extract from a letter of Barbes, a republican, 
who had been in prison since the cov^ d^etat^ was 
communicated to the Emperor, in which he said he 
craved victory for the French in the war then going 
on, and declared that he pitied the republican party 
if there were any it who did not rejoice in the military 
glory of France. The Emperor immediately ordered 
his release from prison, remarking that " a prisoner 
who preserves, in spite of long sufferings, such patri- 
otic sentiments, should not in his reign remain in 
prison." Barbes, instead of being gratified at his re- 
lease, refused to accept any favor from one he deemed 
a usurper. Having been forcibly removed from 
prison, he demanded to be restored ; and this being 
unheeded, he immediately went to England. 

The military operations toward the close of the 
summer began to be more important. The allied 
commanders resolved to change the scene of the 
war, and instead of joining the Turks on the Dan- 
ube, to make a sudden effort to capture Sebasto- 
pol, in the lower part of the peninsula known as the 
Crimea. This extensive fortress was the pride of 
Nicholas. Upon it he had for years expended vast 
sums, in order to render it impregnable by sea or 
land ; and this it was claimed to be. Within the har- 
bor his large Black Sea fleet could be sheltered, 



438 THE EMPIRE AND THE EtSSlAN WAIJ. 

while it added to the defenses of the place ; and here 
it was now shut up by the superior fleet of the allies. 
The camp at Yarna, full of dismal remembrances 
of inaction, disease, and death, was broken up. A 
fleet of three thousand guns and 25,000 seamen, con- 
voying over six hundred transport vessels, carried 
the army across the Black Sea to the shores of the 
Crimea. It was the greatest expedition of the kind 
known in the history of war. The landing was ef- 
fected in the bay of Eupatoria, about fifty miles to 
the north of Sebastopol, on the lith of September, 
1854. ]^o opposition was ofi"ered to the landing. 
The French troops disembarked numbered 23,000, 
and were under command of Marshal de St. Ar- 
naud. The English amounted to 27,000, under Lord 
Eaglan. They soon extended themselves into the 
country, and took up the line of march for the south, 
the French on the right, resting on the sea, the Eng- 
lish on the left. Moving in this order, the allies 
came upon the Russians in a strong position behind the 
river Alma, and close to the coast. The night of the 
20th was passed a few miles to the north of the Rus- 
sian army ; and on the morning of the 21st, the uni- 
ted army of French and English moved forward 
to make an immediate attempt to force the Russian 
position. The Russians were posted on the south side 
of the river, on the slopes and tops of a series of ab- 
rupt hills. Formidable batteries had been planted 
in excellent positions, a trench had been dug in front 
of the most important point, and the Russian army, 
under the immediate command of Prince Menschi- 
kolf, with a front extending two miles, was prepared 



Battle of the alma. 439 

to make an obstinate defense. As the allies had 
marched, so they attacked — the French on the right 
against the Eussian left, and the English on the left 
against the Eussian right. The plan of attack was to 
outflank the Eussians on each extremity of their 
line. 

The French were first in the battle, their line hav- 
ing in the march advanced beyond that of the Eng- 
lish. Their attack began about half past twelve. 
The attacking division was commanded by General 
Bosquet. They quickly crossed the river, and were 
met by a heavy fire, but in spite of it they climbed 
the hills, and established themselves on the Eussian 
left flank. The work was done in true French style. 
Two divisions, under General Canrobert and Prince 
JSTapoleon, soon reinforced them. The artillery was 
brought to bear, the troops pressed on, supported by 
the second line, and by two o'clock the battle on this 
side was won. 

The English had approached under greater disad- 
vantage, being exposed for a long distance to the 
fire of the Eussian batteries. Their own artillery 
could reply but inefi'ectually. About one o'clock the 
light division, under Sir George Brown, crossed the 
river by wading, and rushed up the opposite steep, 
under a most destructive fire. Officers and men fell 
fast before it. Meanwhile, the second division was 
hotly engaged against the Eussian center. For a 
time the terrible fire of the batteries held this divis- 
ion in check. But they only withdrew to re-form, 
and then turned upon their assailants — who had is- 
sued out of the battery — and drove them before them 



4:i0 THE EMPIRE AND THE RtfSSiAiJ t^Afi. 

over the top of the hill. The light division took the 
battery against which their attack was directed, but 
were driven out of it by a large reinforcement of 
Russian infantry. The first division, comprising the 
choice troops of the army, then took its place, cover- 
ing the light division, and allowing it to re-form. 
Before this new attack, made with genuine British 
steadiness and valor, the Russians, after warm resist- 
ance, were compelled to retire, leaving the entire po- 
sition in the hands of the allies. The Russians left 
three generals, three guns, 700 prisoners, and 4,000 
wounded behind them. The loss of the allies was 
over 600 killed, and about 2,700 wounded. The 
British suffered more than the French. Part of the 
retreating army went into the interior, and part into 
Sebastopol. 

Marshal St. Arnaud kept his horse during all the 
day, though in very feeble health. In a few days he 
resigned his command to General Canrobert, and died 
on the voyage home, on the 29th of September. 

The way was now open to Sebastopol. The armies 
made a detour around the fortress, and posted them- 
selves on the south of it. Their general position now 
was this : — ^The French on the left, nearest the sea, 
and having easy communication with their vessels ; 
the English on the right, and of course farther from 
the sea, being about six miles from Balaklava, to 
which port their siege train and stores were brought. 
The valley running behind the British position, and 
extending to Balaklava, was defended immediately 
by some redoubts, in which a few Turkish troops 
were placed. The Russians under General Liprandi, 



BATIXE OF INKKKMANN. 441 

and 30,000 strong, issuing from the crtj, took pos- 
session of the upper end of this valley, and menaced 
the British rear, and their connection with their sea- 
port. On the 25th of October, Liprandi attacked 
in large force, drove the Turks from the redoubts, and 
advanced down the valley toward Balaklava. The 
93d regiment, Highlanders, successfully repulsed one 
division of the Russians, while the British cavalry 
charged upon and broke up another. An attempt, 
made by the light cavalry under the Earl of Cardigan 
to retake the guns which the Russians were carrying 
off from the redoubts, brought this corps under the 
full lire of the Russian army, by which it was fear- 
fully cut up and almost entirely destroyed. The next 
day seven or eight thousand of the enemy sallied out of 
Sebastopol, and made another attack upon the English 
right. Tliis was successfully repulsed. In both these 
actions portions of the French army came to the aid 
of the English. The losses were heavy on both 
sides. 

On the 5th of ^N'ovember a still moic lormidable 
effort was made by the Russians agair.r^t the extreme 
right of the British, the weak point of the whole line, 
and not as yet properly defended by earth-works and 
artillery. Large reinforcements had arrived in Sebas- 
topol. Strong columns under cover of a fog were con 
centrated on the British right, and early in the morn- 
ing began pouring up the slope, bringing with them 
over ninety pieces of artillery. The British troops 
hurried to the defense of their assailed position, but 
were at first repeatedly borne back by overwhelming 
mas3f;6 and ^ withering fire. They held the whole 



442 THE EMPIRE AND THE RUSSIAN WAB. 

Russian force in check, however, until at length two 
battalions of French infantry, comprising the famous 
Zouaves from Algeria, came to the support of their 
allies, and the Russians were driven back into the 
valley with immense loss. The enemy far outnum- 
bered the allied troops engaged, and nothing but the 
stubborn firmness of the British kept the important 
position from being forced. In this fierce and bloody 
action the English had over 400 killed and 1,900 
wounded; the French over 1,700 killed and wounded. 
The Russian loss was stated at nearly 3,000 killed and 
over 5,000 wounded. 

The expedition to the Crimea began now to assume 
a greater magnitude than those who planned it had 
imagined. Constant reinforcements were required to 
make good the losses from these various battles, and 
to place the assailants in a proportionate superiority 
to the besieged. The French army at home and 
abroad had been raised to 580,000 men, and 113,000 
horses. The navy contained 62,000 sailors. Beside 
this, a levy of 140,000 men was demanded by the Em- 
peror. He also demanded a new loan for these ex- 
traordinary expenses. These requisitions were made 
upon the Legislative body, which met on the 26th of 
December, and was opened by the Emperor in a 
speech much praised for its eloquence and dignity. 
His wishes were met. The levy was ordered, and a 
new loan of five hundred million francs was author- 
ized and promptly taken. It was said that three 
times the sum required was ofi*ered to the government. 
In his speech the Emperor said : " Our arms have been 
victorious iu thp Baltic an4 the Black Sea, TwQ 



THE SIEGE. 443 

great battles have shed luster upon our flag. A stri- 
king testimony has proved the intimacy of our rela- 
tions with England. The British Parliament has vo- 
ted thanks to our generals and soldiers. A great 
empire, reinvigorated by the chivalrous spirit of its 
sovereign, has separated itself from the power which 
for forty years has menaced the independence of 
Europe." 

The proper siege of the great fortress of southern 
Eussia went on slowly during the autumn of 1854. 
The labor of bringing the heavy guns and mortars 
into position on the slopes, commanding the southern 
and main works of the enemy, was immense. The 
rains rendered the plateaus and the valleys an expanse 
of mud. The bleak winds found the troops unprovi- 
ded with adequate shelter. The mortality among 
them was excessive and alarming. The French suf- 
fered less than the English and the Turks. The mill 
tary system of the former was more thoroughly and 
wisely organized, and the troops were more accus 
tomed to camp life. 

The siege opened on the 9th of October. The first 
batteries of the English were established at such a dis- 
tance that their fire produced very little impression. 
The French, from the nature of the ground which 
they occupied, had been able to open their trenches 
at a much nearer point. The effect of their fire, 
however, was so slight that the speedy production of 
a breach through which the place might be assaulted 
was very improbable. The besieging armies kept 
making their approaches with great steadiness, gradu- 
ally briugmg their guns nearer to the enemy's works 



444: THE EMPIRE AlH) THE EUSSIAJS- WAR. 

The fortress was skillfully, zealouslj and bravely de- 
fended. Being invested only upon the southern side; 
reinforcements of men, ammunition and provisions 
could be introduced without interference both by 
land around the head of the bay, and by water from 
the north side of the harbor. The immense arsenals, 
and the ships of war, now lying useless in the harbor, 
supplied the guns to replace those disabled or to be 
mounted upon the new defenses constantly construct- 
ed. Frequent sorties were made by the garrison, 
directed chiefly against the French positions. The 
Russians, as would naturally be the case, suffered 
more in these attacks than their assailants did. The 
3ntire winter, however, was consumed without mak- 
ing any important progress toward the reduction of 
the formidable fortress. The Russians in some por- 
tions of their line of defense contracted their works; 
in other places they boldly pushed them out so as se- 
riously to check the operations of the besiegers, and 
even to threaten their positions. A young engineei 
officer of remarkable energy and genius, Todleben, 
had been appointed to the task of superintending the 
defensive works. And to his superior talent, and the 
enthusiasm with which he inspired the army, must be 
ascribed in a great degree the long and admirable 
defense of the place against the mighty engines of 
warfare which the allies were able to bring against 
it. He originated and carried out a system of earth- 
works, in some places exterior to and in others within 
the original defenses. When the original masonry 
towers and redoubts were knocked to pieces by the 



THE SIEGE ^DEATH OF NICHOLAS. 44:5 

storm of large shot from the monstrous batteries of the 
allies, these works rose as by magic in their stead. 

Throughout the winter the troops suffered exceed- 
ingly in their bleak position on the hills. This was 
especially the case with the English soldiers ; for the 
army system of that government, in the midst of the 
crisis, proved cumbrous, and totally insufficient for the 
demands made upon it. Through the fault of officials 
the army dwindled away fearfully, and its very spirit 
was seriously menaced. Thus passed the gloomy and 
fatal winter. With spring came hope and life. Fresh 
troops from France and England, with a contingent 
of 15,000 from Sardinia, who had joined the alliance, 
and a more complete and formidable siege train, 
qualified the allies for a more vigorous assault upon 
the fortress which had so long defied them. 

In the spring efforts were made for a settlement of 
the great controversy, by a conference of the powers 
atYienua; but after several sessions the ambassadors 
separated without coming to any amicable terms. On 
the 2d of March, 1855, E'icholas, Emperor of Russia, 
died at St. Petersburgh, in the fifty-ninth year of his 
age. He was quietly succeeded by his eldest son, 
Alexander, who was born in 1818. The new Czar 
acquiesced in the policy of his father, and proceeded 
to carry out the projects already inaugurated. There 
was not even a temporary cessation of the war. 

In the month of April, the national alliance was 
signalized by a visit of the Emperor and Empress of 
France to England. They crossed the channel on 
the 16th, and were the guests of the Queen, at Wind- 
sor Castle until the 21st. The imperial visitors were 



446 THE EMPIRE AND THE RUSSIAN WAE. 

received with great enthusiasm in London. In pass- 
ing through the streets, the Emperor was observed 
to point out to his wife the house he had occupied as 
a private man and an exile. The citj authorities gave 
them a public reception in the Guildhall. In reply 
to a complimentary address from the Recorder, Na- 
poleon observed in part as follows: "England and 
France are naturally united on all the great questions 
of politics and of human progress that agitate the 
world. From the shores of the Atlantic to those of 
the Mediterranean — from the Baltic to the Black Sea 
— from the desire to abolish slavery, to our hopes for 
the amelioration of all the countries of Europe, I see 
in the moral as in the political world, for our two na- 
tions, but one course and one end. It is, then, only by 
unworthy considerations and pitiful rivalries that our 
union could be dissevered. If we follow the dictates 
of common sense alone, we shall be sure of the future 
You are right in interpreting my presence among you 
as a fresh and convincing proof of my energetic co- 
operation in the prosecution of the war, if we fail in 
obtaining an honorable peace. Should we so fail, al- 
though our difficulties may be great, we may surely 
count on a successful result ; for not only are our 
soldiers and sailors of tried valor — not only do our two 
countries possess within themselves unrivaled re- 
sources, but above all — and here lies tlieir supe- 
riority—they are in the van of all generous and 
enlightened ideas. The eyes of all who suffer in- 
stinctively turn to the west. Thus our two nations 
are even more powerful from the opinions they rep- 
resent than by the armies and fleets they have at 



ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION. 447 

tlieir command." The Queen of England also during 
this visit invested the Emperor with the royal order 
of the Garter. The return of the imperial pair to 
Paris was welcomed hj an enthusiastic popular de- 
monstration. The French might well regard this 
visit to England as one of the most signal triumphs of 
Louis Napoleon. 

Shortly after this gratification to his pride and am- 
bition, the Emperor was again reminded of the un- 
certainty of his power and the constant exposure of 
his life. On the evening of the 28th of April, he left 
the palace in plain clothes, and accompanied by two 
of his household officers, to take his usual ride in the 
Champs Elysees. J^ear the Barriere de I'Etoile, a 
well-dressed man on the side-walk fired with a pistol 
twice, the second ball grazing His Majesty's hat. The 
assassin was an Italian, named Pianori, and according 
to his own statement, he acted from personal revenge, 
having, it was said, served in the Roman Republican 
army, which the French troops had destroyed. He 
died on the scaffold, making no confession to impli- 
cate any other person or party, and with the expres- 
sion on his lips, " long live the Republic." 

The French Exposition or Palace of Industry, af- 
ter the fashion of the celebrated Crystal Palace of 
Hyde Park, London, was opened formally on the 15th 
of May, by the Emperor and Empress. As a whole, 
this Exhibition was very far from equaling its fa- 
mous prototype in the British capital. 

A change in the office for Foreign Affairs took 
place about this time. M. Drouyn de Lhuys resigned, 
on the ground, it was supposed, of a difference of 



448 THE EMPIRE AND THE RUSSIAN WAR. 

views from the Emperor as to the policy of peace. 
Count Walewski, a natural son of Kapoleon I., and 
for some years Ambassador to the Court of St. James, 
was appointed in his place. 

To return to the Crimea and the history of the war. 
A siege train had been placed in position, near to the 
Russian works, such as had never before been collect- 
ed in the world. Five hundred pieces of artillery 
opened the terrible bombardment on the 9th of April, 
and continued it incessantly till the 28th, then ceas- 
ing for want of ammunition. Thousands of tons of 
iron were hurled against the devoted but obstinate 
stronghold. The Russian commander in his dispatch 
to his Emperor, well termed it "an infernal fire." 
And yet no decided result was effected. The soft 
earth-works received the heaviest shot and shell with 
but slight damage. Before the next morning the in- 
defatigable Russians repaired the injuries of each 
day's fire. During the nights also the trenches were 
the scene of fierce and bloody encounters. Pits in 
which riflemen were concealed, were dug by the Rus- 
sians outside of their works, and in places whence an 
annoying and destructive fire could be kept up on 
the advance works of the allies. For these rifle-pits 
the struggles were furious. Yet slowly and steadily 
the allies pushed their works nearer to those of the 
enemy, until in some places the cannons were nearly 
mouth to mouth. 

Some changes had taken place in the arrangements 
of the line of attack. The English remained in about 
the same relative position, though nearer Sebastopol. 
The French still maintained their close attack on the 



CAPTURE OF VARIOUS PLACES. 449 

extreme left ; but as their army had been largely in- 
creased, a new series of approaches had been made on 
the right of the English, thus extending the line 
farther than at first in that direction. The Sardinians 
had also been posted on the extreme right. General 
Canrobert had resigned the command of the French 
forces, on account of his shattered health, and General 
Pelissier had been appointed commander-in-chief. 
This appointment was a popular one, and was regard- 
id as an indication that the siege would be pushed 
with more energy. 

In the month of June a detachment of the allied 
armies, under command of Sir George Brown, em- 
barked and sailed toward the sea of Azoff. This force 
took possession of the towns of Kertch and Yenikale, 
the Eussians retiring without resistance. Kertch was 
an important capture, as it contained a large amount 
of ammunition, and a foundry where shot and shell 
were made for the supply of Sebastopol. The al- 
lies also thus gained command of the Sea of Azoif, 
and closed this channel for the furnishing of supplies 
to the beleaguered fortress. In the vicinity of Sebas- 
topol, also, the allies extended their line farther inland. 
General Pelissier, in order to meet the expectations 
formed regarding his activity and energy, planned 
and directed several assaults upon Sebastopol. One 
was executed on the Tth of June, after a twenty hours' 
cannonade. It was directed principally against a 
work, called the Mamelon, whicli had been erected 
since the siege began, for the protection of a more im 
portant work, the Malakoff, which was regarded and 
proved to be the key to Sebastopol. The French and 

29 



450 THE EMPIRE AND THE RUSSIAN WAB. 

.British moved in parallel columns, and after a severe 
engagement drove the Eussians out of the Mamelon 
and the Round Tower, and retained possession. 

On the 18th of June, the assault was renewed — the 
French holding the Mamelon, and from it attacking 
the Malakoff — the British assailing the Redan, a work 
lying to the right of the Malakoff, and forming, in 
fact, an outwork of it. The Malakoff, it must be ob- 
served, lay to the right of the British, and in front of 
that part of the French army which now formed the 
right of the general line of attack. Three heavy col 
umns of French infantry marched upon this formida- 
ble battery — a fortress in itself. They were all beaten 
back with dreadful slaughter. Neither did the Eng- 
lish attack upon the Redan operate as an effectual 
diversion in favor of the French main assault, as was 
hoped. The loss to the allies was very severe. The 
French, however, vigorously pushed their trenches 
still nearer to the Malakoff, in preparation for another 
assault. 

Lord Raglan died on the 28th of June, after a few 
days' illness. General Simpson succeeded him in 
the chief command of the British forces. 

The Legislative Assembly of France met on the 2d 
of July. Bills were readily passed, authorizing anoth- 
er war loan of seven hundred and fifty million of 
francs, and a levy of 140,000 men for the army. 

A visit of the Queen of England to Paris was made 
in the month of August. She left London on the 18th, 
and reached Paris the same day. The Emperor re- 
ceived her in person at Boulogne. The Queen was 
welcomed with great cordiality and enthusiasm by 



BATTLE OF TCHEEi^ATA. 451 

the French, and a great variety of public displays 
was made for her amusement. 

Toward the close of the summer of 1855, the great 
contending powers in the Crimea were maneuvering 
for a final desperate struggle. The Russians found 
the lines of the besiegers drawn more and more closely 
around them. They made one more great effort to 
break up the siege by an attack upon the more ex- 
posed right flank of their foes, which had been extend- 
ed to the vicinity of the river Tchernaya. The at- 
tack was directed by Prince Gortschakotf in person, 
who brought to the charge over 50,000 men, with one 
hundred and sixty pieces of artillery and 6,000 cavalry. 
This host was met by 30,000 French and Sardinians 
together. The battle was fought on the 16th of Au- 
gust, and lasted several hours, during which the Rus- 
sians repeatedly sought with desperate bravery to force 
the allies from their position. They were repulsed, 
with a loss estimated at 5,000 ; while the allies did 
not lose half that number. 

The Russians now began to prepare for the evacu- 
ation of Sebastopol. They constructed a floating 
bridge to the north side of the harbor, over which 
they removed great quantities of munitions and sup- 
plies. The allies, meanwhile, arranged for another 
assault upon the Malakoff. The French lines were 
close to it. An active bombardment throughout thf 
whole long line was kept up from the 5th of Septem- 
ber to the 8th. At noon precisely on the 8th, the 
French assaulting columns, to the amount of 30,00C 
men, began pouring out of the trenches, and rushing 
toward the Malakoff with the greatest impetuosity. 



4:52 THE EMPIRE AND THE RUSSIAN WAR. 

The intervening space was quickly cleared, and then 
in close quarters within the formidable work itself 
the struggle went on. The French reinforcements 
crowded on to the aid of their companions, while from 
the other side of the Malakoff, the Eussian troops 
poured up in great masses to the defense. The fight 
for an hour was furious, and then the Russians gave 
way and abandoned the work. The French also took 
what was termed the Little Eedan, but they were ex- 
posed to so severe a fire in it, that they withdrew. 
Batteries were planted, which poured a storm of shot 
and shell down upon the Eussian ships of war in the 
harbor, setting fire to several of them. 

Meanwhile, the British attack upon the Great Ee- 
dan had been going on. The distance between their 
trenches and this work was considerable. The as- 
saulting column was consequently exposed to a de- 
structive fire immediately on leaving their own cover. 
Many men and officers fell before this space was 
crossed. The assailants, however, eflfected a lodg- 
ment in an angle of the work, where for a long time 
they resisted the efforts of a large body of Eussians 
to drive them out, and waited in vain for reinforce- 
ments. The enemy, driven by the French from the 
Malakoff, pressed in overwhelming numbers upon the 
British in the Eedan, and finally compelled them to 
withdraw. The attack on this point was a failure ; 
and nowhere else along the line was any serious ef- 
fort made, as it was plain that the Malakoflf was the 
key to the fortress. 

This final assault cost the allies about ten thousand 
men in killed ^nd wounded. During the night fol- 



FALL OF SEBASTOPOL. 4:53 

lowing the fall of the Malakoff, the Russians exploded 
mines under various fortifications, and withdrew their 
entire army to the north side of the harbor. The al- 
lies were slow to penetrate into the city, fearing the 
explosion of mines made by the enemy. Gradually, 
however, they took possession of the various parts of 
the stronghold, for which they had so long contended. 
Immense stores of cannon, powder, shot, and all ma- 
terials for war, were found in Sebastopol. The Eus- 
dan commander admitted the loss of from 500 to 1,000 
men a day during the last month of the siege. The 
allies promptly planted batteries, and opened a fire 
upon the north side of the harbor, while the enemy 
went regularly to work to strengthen the forts on that 
side by exterior earth-works, showing readiness to 
endure another siege. The allies also entered upon 
the work of destroying the magnificent docks, arse- 
nals, and various establishments which had been ne- 
cessary to make Sebastopol a great naval depot. The 
Russians had in the outset sunk enough of their large 
.hips of war across the mouth of the harbor to make 
the entrance impracticable. The remainder had been 
Durned and sunk when they evacuated the city. 

An expedition, consisting of 15,000 French and 
i,000 British troops, was embarked at Balaklava, and 
on the 15th of October successfully bombarded the 
fortress of Kinburn, the garrison of 1,500 men surren- 
dering as prisoners of war. This movement was 
made in order to open the way to an attack upon cer- 
tain important interior towns. 

The approach of winter put a stop to operations by 
gea or l^nd. The Russians made oije more field at 



454 THE EMPIRE AND THE EUSSIAN WAS. 

tack upon the allies ; but few were engaged in it, the 
losses were small, and the results nothing. They 
kept up a heavy cannonade upon the south side of 
the harbor, to which the allies made little reply. 
Both parties tacitly agreed to wait for more genial 
weather for active operations, or to see what might 
be the issue of the rumors of peace. 

On the 11th of January, a grand council of war, 
presided over by the French Emperor, and composed 
of the prominent military men of the allies, met in 
Paris, to enlighten the governments upon the state, 
the exigencies, and the issues of the v/ar. Daring the 
winter Sweden also joined the allies. A portion of 
the French troops returned from the Crimea was 
warmly received in Paris, and the Emperor addressed 
them as follows : " I have recalled you, though the 
war be not terminated, because it is only just to re 
lieve in their turn the regiments which have suffered 
most. Each will thus be able to take his share in 
glory, and the country, which maintains 600,00C 
soldiers, has an interest in maintaining in France a 
numerous and experienced army, ready to march 
wheresoever necessity may require. Preserve, then, 
carefully the habits of war, and fortify yourselves in 
the experience you have already acquired." ^ 

While the armies in the Crimea were rendered in 
active by the winter, Austria, with the consent of 
France and England, again made certain propositions 
to Russia ; which propositions were deemed the ulti- 
matum of the allies. The Czar accepted these propo- 
sitions, '^as the basis of negotiations." In the latter 
past of February, the plenipotentiaries of France^ 



TREATY OF PEACE. 450 

England, Austria, Russia, Sardinia and Turkey, as- 
sembled in Paris, and on the SOtli of March, 1856, the 
treaty of peace was signed. It was subsequently 
ratified by all the governments. It consisted of 
thirty-four articles, embracing the following impor- 
tant points: All territories occupied during the war 
were restored. Turkey was admitted to the political 
system of Europe, and her indepencence was guaran- 
teed; the Black Sea was neutralized, and ships of 
war of all nations forbidden to enter it, with certain 
unimportant exceptions, trade in it also being free ; 
Turkey and Russia agreed to maintain no military 
maritime arsenals on the coast of the Black Sea ; the 
Sultan conceded the equal rights of all Christians in 
his dominions. The treaty gave great satisfaction in 
France. The Czar also claimed that he had obtained 
all he had sought ; though his satisfaction can hardly 
be understood, when it is remembered that his entire 
naval power in the Black Sea was destroyed, and he 
was prohibited from ever reestablishing it. In Eng- 
land the peaqe did not give so great satisfaction among 
all classes ; there was a general feeling that the mili- 
tary honor and glory of Britain had been damaged by 
the war, and that the political importance of the ad- 
ministration had been made subordinate to the am- 
bition and influence of the French Emperor. The 
war undoubtedly added not only to the glory of the 
French arms, but to the importance of Louis Napo- 
leon in the political affairs of Europe. His power was 
greatly augmented by this struggle with the Colossus 
of the North. By his policy France was placed for the 
time at tbe head of European nations.. His thrope 



4:56 THE EMPIRE AlTD THE RUSSIAN WAR. 

was strengthened, and the forces of opposition within 
and without the nation were weakened and scattered. 

France sent in all to the Crimea during this war 
about 200,000 men, of whom it was estimated that 
60,000 were lost, including those killed and wounded in 
battle, or who died or were disabled by disease. Eng- 
land lost in similar ways about 22,000 ; while Count 
Orloff, the Russian Plenipotentiary, is said to have ad- 
mitted in Paris that the loss on the part of Russia 
was about 500,000 men. 

The hopes of the Emperor of France, and of those 
desiring the continuance of his dynasty, were greatly 
gratified by the birth of a son on the Idth of March, 
during the sessions of the peace congress in Paris. 
The circumstances of this event were all arranged 
with that particularity and pomp which pertain by 
custom to such important affairs in reigning families. 
Paris was made gay with the rejoicings and displays 
of the occasion. The name given to the heir of the 
throne was I^apoleon-Louis-Eugene-Jean-Joseph. As 
the heir of the first Napoleon was entitled King of 
Rome, so this child received the title of King of 
Algeria. 

The Emperor, rendered good-humored and clement 
by so promising an event, offered an amnesty to all 
political exiles who would return and take the oath 
of allegiance. 

One Orsini attempted to blow up the Emperor by- 
throwing bombs under his carriage. Such attempts 
ceemed to add to his popularity with the people. 



fRENCH IN MEXtca iHI 

The Italians had made several heroic but unsuc- 
cessful attempts to throw off the power of Austria. 

Their leader was the gallant Victor Emanuel. 
The Emperor Napoleon found some pretexts for join- 
ing forces with the Italians. Having a finely appoint- 
ed and large army he fought several very sanguinary 
battles with the foe of Italy. Among the more fa- 
mous was the greatly celebrated Quadrilateral. The 
four fortresses of Mantua, Leguano, Peschiera, and 
Verona possessed such a strategetical position as to ren- 
der the enclosed space impregnable. But they were 
all forced to surrender to the Italians and French. 
These fortresses formed the line of defence of Venetia, 
and were ceded to that state, by the French-Austrian 
treaty of Oct. 3, 1866. The war ended, a treaty was 
executed at Villefranca, by which all the Italian duch- 
ies fell to Sardinia. France received Nice and some 
other places for her services. It was soon after that 
Napoleon recognized Victor Emanuel as King of Italy. 

China having given umbrage to some of the Euro- 
pean powers, by non-fulfilment of treaties, France 
once more joined forces with England. Their united 
warlike expeditions resulted in the capture of the cap- 
ital of China, and the destruction of some of the most 
splendid palaces in Pekin. After which the Chinese 
signed an enforced treaty. Cochin-China was treated 
in much the same manner, by Napoleon about the 
same time. 

Mexico being largely in arrears to French, English 
and Spanish money lenders, Napoleon had the address 
to win England and Spain into a joint attack upon 
that nation. Before long Spain and England became 
convinced that Napoleon had designs of his own, and 
they withdrew from the compact. The French Em^pe- 
ror preceded with his design. His troops on several 
fields defeated the Mexicans. Maximillian, a worthy 
Prince of the Austrian imperial family was crowned 
Emperor of Mexico. Napoleon, soon after, being re- 
monstrated with by the United States, withdrew his 
French troops. Maximillian was shot, and his wife 
became hopelessly insane. When, in 1863, a Polish 
insurrection made kingly thrones totter in Europe, 



458 Death of napoleon hi. 

Napoleon tried to unite the monarchs in a sort of de- 
fensive league. The attempt failed, however. 

The inglorious war against Mexico, and his 
strange apathy, while Prussia was bringing Austria to 
her knees, were greatly diminishing his popularity. 
Apparently with the intention of regaining it, he be- 
gan to loosen the reins of authority, and gave much 
more liberty of expression and action to his people. 
He, also, voluntarily submitted to the people the ques- 
tion of his governmental acts. Immense majorities 
implied that the French people were satisfied with his 
rule. A plot to assassinate the Emperor was discov- 
ered in April, 1870. It was frustrated. 

The most momentous act of his life occurred in 
1870, when he declared war against Prussia, or rather, 
against Germany. For by this time the astute Bis- 
mark had succeeded in establishing a confederation 
of nearly all the states of that powerful, but previously 
disjointed country. England made an offer to medi- 
ate between France and Prussia, but her offer was de- 
clined. Large French armies hurriedly marched to 
cross the Rhine. But before they could leave their 
own soil, they found themselves faced by German 
troops, led by the great General Von Moltke. A 
month of battles followed. Nearly everyone of which 
resulted in favor of the Germans. Indeed the 
French showed scarcely any martial quality except 
courage. The "Star" of the Second Empire went 
down at Sedan. This battle was won by the Germans. 
The army capitulated. The Emperor became a pris- 
oner, and was borne as a captive into German territo- 
ry. Here he received kingly treatment from his cap- 
tors. He was subsequently released and proceeded to 
England. Here he met his wife, Eugenie. After the 
Sedan defeat the Empire was overthrown, and the 
Empress had sought refuge behind the chalky cliffs that 
had so often sent navies and armies to combat to the 
death with all who bore the name of Bonaparte. 

^ Napoleon III died on the 9th of January, 1873, ^t 
Chiselhurst, in England. 

The least culpable of all that ever bore the name 
of Bonaparte was the son of Napoleon and Eugenie — • 



PRINCE NAPOLEON. 450 

the Prince Imperial, who appeared only to have lived 
and died "to point a moral and adorn a tale." His 
mother having made England her home — where it is 
but right to say that this family in its misfortunes 
has been treated with a noble hospitality — and the 
young scion of emperors went for his military educa- 
tion to the British Army Academy. 

Here he displayed considerable ability. He proved 
an apt scholar, and acquired an excellent soldierly ed- 
ucation. When he stood on the threshold of manhood, 
he tired of inglorious ease, and notwithstanding the 
natural objections of his mother, Eugenie, he solicited 
and obtained permission to join a British corps, as a 
volunteer, destined to fight against the Zulus, in Afri- 
ca. Here he displayed a good deal of ability as an 
engineer officer. But with more courage than discre- 
tion he ventured too far in the advance, and his small 
escort was cut down, and he himself slain, in 1879. 
To close this truly strange eventful history, it only 
remains to write that his mother — who dearly loved 
him— made a pilgrimage to the spot where he fell, and 
brought his remains to England. There they repose 
beside the father whose actions fill a vast space in the 
annals of the world. 

Only one of this great family remains alive. That 
is, if we allow any legality to the infamous act of Na- 
poleon I, by which he sought to throw the shadow of 
illegitimacy apon the"American" Bonapartes,(the child- 
ren of his brother Jerome by that brother's wife, Miss 
Paterson.) The one we allude to is the cousin of Na- 
poleon III. He is officially styled Prince Napoleon, 
but popularly known as Pon-plon. His father was 
Jerome, brother of Napoleon I; his mother the Prin- 
cess of Wurtemburg. He married Clotilde, daughter 
of Victor Emanuel. No action of his life has lifted 
him into historical significance. 



LRB S '26 



